It Hits.

Warmth, warmth, warmth.

What even is warmth?

“You’re warm,” they tell me.

In their most sincerity.

I smile.

How lovely.

.

.

.

Makes me ponder,

Who is my “me” in my story?

.

.

.

Is it possible to emit something so much of what you lack of.

To emit a burning fire from a depleting source of non renewable energy.

How?

Is it merely an innocent flame that lights at the end of a wick?

Or one of those that blazes for a second and turns every sight of white wax to black.

Warmth, warmth, warmth

What is that?

Can

someone 

turn 

up

the 

temperature.

Please.

Because I’m shiver-r-ring.