There is something about cold that likes to stick to him,
settling into the fibers of his sweater,
kissing his cheeks from now until lunchtime.
It’s the same way that my chest is a magnet
for aggressive voices and bitter undertones
of other people’s conversations.
I have gone running, tail between my legs,
to take a break for cigarettes I don’t smoke,
just to get away.
He is cold in my arms, the way your bed feels
when you haven’t been home in a long time.
Come to think of it,
it’s how he feels when he hasn’t been home
since the last time I held him.
Come home to me.
You can stay until dawn or
stay until the end of this song.
How can a boy with sunflower eyes
feel so much like ice in my veins?
Note: #FreeWriteFriday is exactly what it sounds like. It first came on to my radar ages ago with Garrett Richie. Then Celia Ampel. Then Elise Schmelzer. I decided to jump on the train, because creative writing is where I first found my love for writing. Why not?