Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
moniqueezehPoems
In Georgia, it is 82 degrees. Sweltering sticky heat and air so thick with humidity It’s like you’re swimming through syrup Weigh me down. Sweat slips down my spine like living water, a reminder that I am here— uncomfortable, yes, but not quite hurting. People smile. I smile back. In New York, it’s 39 degrees. Wind whips at my face, rendering my cheeks rosy and stinging my eyes with tears. My teeth chatter, rattling my whole jaw with them. The subtle pain reminds me I’m alive. I’m not quite sure when I decided pain and existence were synonymous But I did And today is another reminder. I smile. No one smiles back. At least they’re alive. At least I am.
0
Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 2:24 PM UTC
it's cold in new york
In Georgia, it is 82 degrees. Sweltering sticky heat and air so thick with humidity It’s like you’re swimming through syrup Weigh me down. Sweat slips down my spine like living water, a reminder that I am here— uncomfortable, yes, but not quite hurting. People smile. I smile back. In New York, it’s 39 degrees. Wind whips at my face, rendering my cheeks rosy and stinging my eyes with tears. My teeth chatter, rattling my whole jaw with them. The subtle pain reminds me I’m alive. I’m not quite sure when I decided pain and existence were synonymous But I did And today is another reminder. I smile. No one smiles back. At least they’re alive. At least I am.
a poem about the weather, but also not.
#weather#newyork#georgia#home#connection#people#city#town#alone#together
Written by
moniqueezeh
21/nyc
Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 2:24 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem