Sometimes it's the little things that count.
Didn't have to count my steps or hold my breath.
What once was red has cooled to blue.
Gentle passing.
A storm I had of it for
not too long.
And then my body healed.
Nothing burning in touching or looking,
nothing pressing in nearness.
Oh but it's nice not holding my breath.
I've forgotten the scent I suppose.
It's little things
like the merengue that make me
warm all over.
Simple things like hands on back
and sober sleep that make me smile.
It feels damn good.