This much I believe to be true:
I make others comfortable.
Frequent descriptor from people that touch me.
It makes my eyes harden then go curious.
I do not get cold.
I suppose that is speculation.
I try to warn people.
Everyone seems to be cold or worry about it.
I wish I got cold.
Faded out of my rabbit-holes.
Fell behind by one miss-step too many.
But, I wake up sweating whether the weather is
February or july.
But, I grin, now, and giggle at the very idea.
Behind this smile
That betrays a happy tear.
That aches in my stomach.
Of course, I could get cold, right?
Howl i silently howl.