An encircled pit, like flames at the bottom
Pretend to see it, pretend
To hurt, to fear, to shrivel
Until the step back is taken and the cool air returns
Pretend its comforting, pretend you are held
Your spine will straighten itself
Picking fruits is every man's game, and
It is so for a reason
Curling your hand around supple meat
The rip, tear, shaking shivering crying branches
Click clack, walk across the pavement
Muscles tense, poised
Your voice is an autumn downpour
A slow sheen, a storm drain, a
Pillowed mess to hide the indent
But I can see through them, honey
I can feel the heat
©another
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