Throbbing within, not a second of rest,
A pressure swelling toward eruption, burning—
A tormenting tickle crawling downward,
My throat a raw and aching corridor.
Each breath scrapes like broken glass,
Heat rising in waves I cannot swallow.
A pulse of fever hums beneath my skin,
Insistent, hungry, demanding to be known.
Still I brace myself against the surge,
Hoping the fire will soften into warmth,
Hoping the night will loosen its grip
And let my body remember gentleness again.