by Writer

Inching back towards the wall. 

The cold metal bites my warm bare skin with surprise. 

Heat radiates in waves into the wool blanket. 

It’s too much, I itch, I sweat, I search. 

Must I lie on the cold ground?

Must I live my life in a corner? 

I look high and low and find not a loving embrace. 

My eyes scour the visions before me but I find not comfort.