Cold, it slides down my throat and coils in my stomach.
Warm, it pounds down on my back and slides down my body.
Lukewarm, it sits in the dog's bowl out in the sun.
Freezing, I hold it to my head where I hit it on the counter.
Body temperature, it slides down my face in the form of tears.
Woda
Aigua
Ta-neer
Eau
Ruwa
YOU ARE READING
Painless
PoetryDear World, I don't know who I am. This is me trying to find out. Book 1
