I am cold.
Every night I sleep with the fan.
Every night. Every single one.
I rely on my blanket to keep me warm.
But now my house has gone cold too.
My fan has chilled the air, and the house
along with it.
I think nothing of it.
I am used to the chill.
But one I love knows differently.
So she brings in to me a space heater.
She turns on the heater,
So I turn on the fan,
Not wanting to be warm because that
Is different.
But the heater is strong,
Stronger even than the fan.
And I am warm.
Though I don't think I'll ever turn off the fan.
YOU ARE READING
Not From Chicago.
PoetryThis is a collection of my best poetry in my opinion! I hope you enjoy, whoever may paint their eyes over the letters and words I've arranged! PS-This book includes poems from "A World In Words" by yours truly. Go check out the other book, if you li...
