Feels in Heat

With weathered temperature, I break down currents whelming from my insides out
the clues that can’t speak about the heart any differently.
Maybe there is denial or some type of degree of heat that we deny,
our experiences weather us with rain and snow or drought.
They all have purpose.
Maybe because I hold onto my seemingly crushed ego
from back in the day that rose my being to cold Antartica.
I won’t let go of the heat I feel,
but I will let go of my umbrella.
I would like to feel it all.