Surrounded by cold shoulders at every turn,
I am a charred stick in the middle of a Popsicle
stuck firmly in my frigid lemon of a life.
I am the smouldering fire beneath the starry hole,
polarized endlessly in an eskimo's icy dwelling.
Loneliness is an ache that can be hot and bothersome
deep in one's soul even in the worst of blizzards.
Only external warmth can penetrate its freon flesh,
warm hands locked with mine, lips melding as one,
Until two hearts generate a thaw and then blissful warmth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis
Honorable mention
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