The Cold War 

When I hug him I place my ear on his chest like I’m waiting for his heart to whisper through his breast bone and into my ear the things his brain doesn’t want me to have the satisfaction of hearing aloud, to promise me that this Cold War won’t last forever, that he’ll one day drown me in the love he used to, that he’ll soon enough forgive me for being who I am and get back to loving me for who I try to be.



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