frosty orbs chill me–

the past’s winter.

but the Sun 

thumps in your chest.

the clouds never parted,

spring never came.

you won’t even let yourself

taste sweetness,

for it burrowed holes 

in your very constitution

leaving empty spaces–

chest cavities.

your love

boils to the surface

but you clamp the kettle.

Will you ever let yourself be known?

or will you let the rest of your life

be your childhood home?