The underside of a tongue and the bruised
Protruding veins from around the beaten eye.
The hissing, sissing, kissing radiator releasing
Steam heat like screaming tea kettle ready
For release and cream or sugar.
The trickle of water in a bowl and claws
landing right into the small of the back.

I live in these places between light and flowers, dust and staples,
flight and hours, rust and maple. I am amber, but not solid,
Flaming, but not hot,  Sunrise never Sundays.
Feet always cold. Ex-smoker over sleeper, always wishing for the reimbursements.
Now weaper, but never weaker, just a weeker trying
To see deeper, but never the keeper, just the reaper.
it's okay to get used to it. like

Starting the bath cold and pouring boiling
water from stove top kettles and pots until
You notice the warmth, but the heat never
Hurts. or

Maybe jumping in all at once, and skipping
The ladder all together is the best approach.