It's a
hot night..
The first one for
months.
Spring is in
full bloom, and the
smell of summer is in the air.
It's the Sunday afternoon lawnmowers, the colour of mountains on a hot day.
I can barely
remember the last time I sat,
alone in my room, in the
flickering light of
candles.
Enjoying the scent of the
burning wax, as it combines with the sweet smoke of
incense, smoldering slowly.
It's been the
longest time, since I've sat in the
still air, and felt
sweat, as it
trickles,
beads around my neck, dampens the t-shirt against my back.
And I'm reminded of the last time I can remember sweat...
Lying
in her bed,
feeling her next to me.
She commented on it that night, my back
clammy, the dampness
no relief against the heat I felt.
It's
ironic I guess...as my skin wept, in an effort to stay
cool, my
heart's warmth was
dying.
As I lay there, I felt the
lack of warmth in her
touch, the
distance as she turned, and faced away.
The bitter
cruelty in the warmth I felt...as everything
froze...and I felt as though I
died.
And now,
summer approaches again.
The promise of
tossing and turning through baking nights, in perfectly
still air, beckons again.
My window open, I can hear the sound of a world that has trouble sleeping, that
never truly stops.
And the
heat returns to my skin. Tiny beads of sweat
gather,
combine, to create the
momentum needed for them to
trickle down my body.
And I realise...
returning heat isn't enough to
thaw what she left
frozen.
I could
bathe myself in an
inferno,
breathe the
flames in deeply - and still feel this cold.
This is out of my hands...it's not for me to apply heat to the core of my heart. I can't thaw my soul.
But I
know this. As I feel the
moisture on my skin, I also sense droplets forming on the shell of this frozen core.
And It's with a sense of
hope, that I sit in the
candlelight, and realise with
wonder...
Summer is coming