Little Lungs

My cold little footprints bless this barren land,

The strangers that I past do not notice me,

they do not see the trace that I have left.

They do not see how desperately my little body wants to feel something real,

how envious it feels when it sees warmth on warmth and you standing oh so solid.

I would love to find out how to be as opaque as you,

but people can see my little pink lungs as I breathe in and out as I watch you.

I want to feel the sunlight tangle around my fingers,

I want to know something real.

I want to drink up the milk and honey I feel in the pit of my stomach when I see you.

I want you to touch the softness in my eyes when you come round.

The intensity of my heart has no compass so it rarely falls on those who invite me warmly into their home.

But I am reaching, oh, I am reaching.

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