The Run
The Run
my hands and feet throb with familiar heat
after a long run of desperation,
to try and melt the weight in my chest
in gasps and heaves
to try and release myself from the
loving grip of the grief creeper
on my bones, stuck in its tight embrace
the gushing current in my veins,
and the deafening pound in my ears,
somehow seem to quiet the storm within.
the sweat and heat enveloping my skin,
somehow seems to thaw the bits of icicle in my soul
a stab months old, still inflamed
yet one that refuses to heal.