On harmattan infested mornings
I see them
Lovers walking in pairs
Along cold pathways
Palms blending into each other's
As if to count their veins
The cold kisses violently
On my own skin
Penetrating all my guards
My sweater, so useless
This lonely duvet,
Defeated.
Even the ants were in pairs
They provided for the contingency
I yearned for a mate
Maybe the cold will pass over me
When it sees two opposite sexes
Go tell my mama
I tried
Weep not when I die
Not like a forlorn wrench
At least I had a clinging mate-the cold
So possessive and regular
As it cuddles me from dusk till dawn
This room, brass monkeys
Sometimes methinks,
They lodge their ugly heads
In my apartment whence they operate
But then give me the lion's share
I hope this is peculiar to me not
Or am I cursed with singleness?
@harrywill