deepundergroundpoetry.com
Hot and Cold
The chilling desperation to be noticed,
The molten humiliation of being seen.
Can I freeze?
Can I burn?
Can I hold warmth in my arms,
A comfortable warmth that doesn’t stain my skin red.
Have I ever known warmth?
Will I ever know warmth?
Must I always stick my hands into fire;
Must I always dip my body in freezing waves?
The thrill of the heat,
The rush of the cold;
I thrive in it as much as it kills me.
I was born in it,
I was built for a war.
I was built for the cold,
I was born for the heat.
I ache to be seen,
I hope no one notices it.
The molten humiliation of being seen.
Can I freeze?
Can I burn?
Can I hold warmth in my arms,
A comfortable warmth that doesn’t stain my skin red.
Have I ever known warmth?
Will I ever know warmth?
Must I always stick my hands into fire;
Must I always dip my body in freezing waves?
The thrill of the heat,
The rush of the cold;
I thrive in it as much as it kills me.
I was born in it,
I was built for a war.
I was built for the cold,
I was born for the heat.
I ache to be seen,
I hope no one notices it.
Published 22nd May 2024
Author's Note
One of the minds many contradictions.
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