w.s. got it wrong after all

i’m trying.

god, i’m trying.

i don’t think it’s enough

discontent is not winter

it’s summer

winter is snowfall and blankets and firelit eyes

tea just hot enough to burn

fingertips just cold enough to numb

but summer

summer is dust and dry wind and trying not to pass out

everything is hot, hot, burning

i will never be cold again

my mind is thick and slow with discontent

hazy with bitterness

and i’m

still

trying.