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The Temperatures of Water
Cold is that harsh bite you feel,
As your fingers fall numb and hollow.
And the shivers ripple up your arm;
Leaving you stiff and frigid,
Devoid.
Hot is a masked invasion.
Shocking your flesh with a taste of ice,
That snaps into a scalding pain;
Just as fast as your hand yanks away,
Unable to soothe your shrieking nerves.
Cool is what you seek for solace.
Sopped up in a washcloth as a remedy,
For a sunburnt face,
Or a stressful day.
Cool is what you need,
To splash your tears,
Leaving you sober
And clarified.
Warm is a desire to unwind.
An afterthought in a tempered tub.
Letting you melt within,
And slip away under the pulses.
To let your mind roam,
With calm breaths,
And slowly trailing thoughts.
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