what's left

12 January 2008 @ 12:37 pm

this is like summer
[the entire season without any of its positive connotations
ninety-four degrees and heavy
ninety-eight degrees and exponential]
this is like summer lounging across my diaphragm
absorbing the things i try so hard to protect.

and well,
winter is a beat-up gaze
taking too much and lingering for too long
and i can tell in two angry seconds,
this is what we are.
you'll beat down my door
i'll leave you out in the cold
and like i said,
twenty-three degrees
and i'm not even sure what i'm protecting.

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