III
agony | y.kook |warmth.
I never get a chance to tell you; but you feel warm
warm like a hug in the middle of the pouring rain
warm like Mama's hand-made cookies on Monday
like mid-night lullabies and grandma's blankets
like the sunlight in July
warm, warm, warm
like molten honey
like black coffee and Papa's flannels
and like home.
-JJK, August 9
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