Cold Aches

There are cold aches in my muscles

I cannot move without feeling as though they will break.

I have a cold heart that aches to the thought of you and

These aches leave my thoughts cold.

Warmth is now just a distant sensation —

Someone might say I ache for.

They take apart my skin as a metaphor,

As if stripping my veins make me beautiful or poetic,

As if pulling me apart would somehow repair me.

I hate metaphors, yet they are the only way I know how to tell you I am in pain.

I don’t know what you want from me.

I don’t know what I want from you.

Maybe I just want you to feel something other than lust but

I am not the kind of person people lust over.

I am not that wonderful.

I am not an intricate galaxy.

I am barely a functioning human being.

I am barely being.

All of a sudden my chest aches,

And I am back in the same cycle.