tell me its not the heat..
its the humidity
and i nod, i agree
and they wondered why anyone,
looking at me
would want to move to this tropical misery
and i shrug and don't say a word
about i have not yet had to
put on a coat
my thick wool coat
that traps scent like treasure
and saves it away for snowy days
it still smells of you
of your hand at my waist
of your arm across my shoulder
of safety and silence and the strength under your skin
and i cannot bear to put it on
without your fingers adjusting the collar
pulling my loose curl and putting it back
worse than that i cannot take it off
face the world without your warmth around me
lose the scent of you in the cutting cold air
and shut the door to my empty house behind me
letting all the cold air in.
They say only a fugitive would choose texas in the summer
choosing between it and hell
and they ask me what I'm running from.
a coat and an empty closet
next to mine.
and they were embarrassed to see me cry.
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