Not momentary warmth.

No. I don't want to remember that spring.
Those dark early hours, forcing myself out of bed.
When all I could see was the haze of missing
When all I could think is "oh, my heart aches."
Constant.
Misery.
Smile and be positive for the weaker one; I had to.
'Cause they'd never see my cripple body limp out of bed.
'Cause they'd never hear the pain inside my being, dripping
Constantly leaking
Constantly sobbing for what I never had.

Were your tears as hot?
Were your sobs what got me out of bed those days?
I could have sworn I heard you
across our water distance.

Once I staggered lightly, sat back down on my bed's edge.
The light-trimmed window supported my cosmic blue eyes,
and I... I swear.
I felt you hum out loud,
felt the vocal vibration of your love.
Of your warm arms, your safe embrace.
My safe place.
I cried that morning.
Cried in my sleep.
And I cried to Katie, who hugged me tight.
And I wished I had never met a love so strong.
How could I have wished that?
Hurting did it.
That's all.
It was momentary.
But the warmth of the love still burns.