its still too cold around but,
the warmth of buttered toast
resting between my thenar space
and taste of raspberry jam,
allow me to forget this.
this wasn't always so.
butter repulsed my heart and
raspberries were meant for bleeding over.
toast would only burn and the trinity would never meet.
until the day i needed warmth i could hold,
until the day i needed warmth i could feel,
and have within my opposable apish grasp.