90 Degrees

It feels like ninety degrees when I’m tossing and turning in my sheets,

trying to forget about you,

trying my best to push through,

but there’s nothing else to do because the window is already wide open.

It feels like ninety degrees when he’s touching me, but it’s a different kind of heat,

so my skin goes cold when I remember how it used to feel when you did it.

I step outside, and it feels like ninety degrees,

strangers make their way down the street,

you’re moving on from me,

and my pulse dies with each blistered beat

of your fists against my heart.

I remember December, when we were kissing in the cold,

running through the rain, afraid, but sure that we’d make it out okay.

Skies of gloom, hot bowls of comfort food,

alcoholic kiss, treachery stained my lips.

We never picked up our marriage certificate.

It feels like ninety degrees,

but I’m petrified to admit that this feels everything and nothing like you.

The hate in your eyes, the tears falling from mine,

hang up the phone one last time with no goodbye.

It feels like ninety degrees when I don’t have to force a smile,

a smile that melts when my soul unties from yours.