The Run

my hands and feet throb with familiar heat

after a long run of desperation,

to try and melt the weight in my chest

in gasps and heaves

to try and release myself from the

loving grip of the grief creeper

on my bones, stuck in its tight embrace

the gushing current in my veins,

and the deafening pound in my ears,

somehow seem to quiet the storm within.

the sweat and heat enveloping my skin,

somehow seems to thaw the bits of icicle in my soul

a stab months old, still inflamed 

yet one that refuses to heal.