like a stone in the sun.

He’s warm,

like a stone in the sun.

I wouldn’t call it a fever,

more like an elevated temperature.

 

Did I kiss him with honey on my lips?

Or is it that

Will we be up all night,

croupy cough keeping

us trapped in a steamy bathroom.

Rubbing his back

swaying back and forth,

trying to not burst in to tears

myself.

 

The whiny cry

reassures.

It is the ends of spectrum

that terrify me.

Quiet sadness

and

the keening of pain.

 

This fragility is never lost on me.

A tiny heart,

pumping blood that is still my own.

 

 

 

keeping myself honest with the Write Alm prompts.

Today: soul full

 

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