The Vent

I lay in bed staring at the vent, thinking about you again and again and again.

Warm air blows onto my face; I cannot breathe, for the heat is too intense.

If this happens when thinking about you takes hold of my flesh, I must go now and find you.

All hot and bothered with no relief, I take a visit to the garden; the chill and the rain upon my face temporarily calm me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s