Touching her was
reaching for a cup of tea
steaming on my bedside table
A high fever and stiff joints

When my weak hands hold her close
a shiver runs down the center of me
The rest feels so cold

I breathe in the vapor
citrus and cinnamon
The aroma coats my brain
and softens my nerves

I cough and spit
a decades worth of the unspoken
dissolved in my lungs