Heater

It’s brutally hot this summer.

Punching down on you to burn your ears and make you nervously flush.

Summer brings the pain in remarkable ways.

In a cruel twist of fate, I see my hair getting darker this summer.

I see freckles disappearing when the shine becomes more dim as the days pass on.

I see traits through plaits that I used to curse down upon coming forth in unfortunate hues.

I see the truth I unlock in the bare summer nights.

I am going to fuck this up for the rest of my life.

I want to blame you, the radiating sweat you cause me, it would make it easier.

Yet, you crafted this to be perfect.

A stand-in for the nightmarish hell I tend to cause twice a day.

I kiss you with a promise, a swear.

I can’t help who created me, who perfected this behavior.

It’s hotter than it was before, it makes you stutter.

Did someone turn on the heater?

I am going to fuck this up for the rest of my life.

Luckily, I know how to pick my shot.

All betting men, wiping sweat off their foreheads, do.

I know when to call it a game, when I have backed myself into a corner, when to go for the gut punch.

I know when my going gets tougher, I’ll be colder.

I thank the environment I was trained in, I know this dance.

And I know, like a devil on my shoulder, those words that splinter through the air, will always be there for an eternity.

I am going to feel the heat forever.

I am going to fuck this up for the rest of my life.