Thursday, August 9, 2007

Life


When touched I usually run
Especially when I think I hurt
Before I even know if it does
I’m running away from life

Trying to slow the reaction down
I breathe through a throat grown tight
Into a chest frozen with fear of unease
opaque over decades of cold facts

However the sun is warm, & I have many chances
Every day to go out and thaw, a little at a time
This ice that has grown around my heart
The fire there is warm, in an icehouse
I once called love, I know now, simply is.
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