She didn't like the cold.
Not the feeling that spread within her as soon as her feet met cold concrete, stroking hands along cold skin, like over a living map, over a cold, distant country.
But she didn't like heat either.
Not the feeling of buzzing air, small pearls that run over their faces. Not the warm caresses of sun light she woke up to in the morning.
No. She didn't like either
heat or cold.
She liked the interaction.
DU LIEST GERADE
Irgendwas Dazwischen
PoetryBand I Weil ich kein Papier mehr hatte abgeschlossen 21/22 I Wish It Would Rain - Phil Collins
