Bag of boiling waterstill leaves cold corners
beneath toes, frost bitten,
sliding softly beneath sheets
and socks.
Skin burns beneath the bottle
2 legs across,
30 centimetres wide,
it’s warmth has tried
to cure the bitterness
that sweeps across this cosy mess
vast and void with room
for 2. Though neglects to fill the
emptiness
Don’t think that you’re superfluous
I’ve kept a place reserved
for you.
For constant warmth from head to toe and hands that seek my shivering bones.
A place where I don’t need these clothes and where I’ll choose to share this note.