The warmth that bodies bring is
A certain kind of pain,
Filling auditoriums with its unwanted wafts,
Pricking the little skin that is not yet numb,
And I, although being alone,
Never felt the cold until I saw its heat.

For this cold was not the absence of heat,
For in the summer there is sun,
And in the winter, rain,
Strain of freezing rarely accosts,
But, being amongst the heat
The pain turns even lukewarm dew
To frost.
All heat by then is lost.