You complain about the heat
I fan you until
I am sweating out every
ounce of my will
for you.
You complain that it's too cold.
I strip down
to bare skin and wrap
you until you are comfortable
and the smile on
my skin is a grayish-blue.
Your malcontent has drawn
me weary
My heart's marrow
drips out slowly
to feed you
and keep us alive
But what us
can there be
once it is all dried up
to nothing but bitter air?
I guess
I'll just have to wait
and see