Love Poem 33

Love in a heatwave means

I want to be close,

but not too close

because I’m so hot I can’t think straight and

I’m so sweaty I can barely sit still.

The last thing I need

is someone else’s skin sticking to me underneath

sweaty sheets

with limbs tangled together.

Love is already a thing of fire,

all scorching and blistering and melting in nature,

capable of roasting me in

my shell,

my armour.

I can’t handle

more heat.

I can’t handle more

hot feelings and boiling sensations,

not when my guts are already at their boiling point

and when

so much of me has already been

burned away.

I don’t have much more to give.

I don’t want to kiss

or get in bed together.

I am already worried I will

burn up

from the inside out

and I don’t want to tempt fate any more than I already do.

It is hot as hell and I hope

I can make it to cooler times.