A poem for the Sun.
The sun feels nice on your skin when your bones feel like ice from everyday dread. The sun feels nice on your skin when your body is depraved of heat. The sun feels nice on your skin when your spirit lacks warmth. The air has body when the sun is out. Body against your skin—its been a long time since you felt good. Intimate. It feels close when she kisses you. It bring you life. She holds you where it hurts, and you suddenly feel better.