Real

 

Is it hot or cold this thing they want me to breathe?

I remember how warm I felt in the shop I kept before they came to tell me to leave.

I have not felt so warm since though I have felt frightened.

You can�t warm your fingers over a pot full of hope the way you can over one of burning coals.

You can�t taste, smell or touch hope, and so, it lingers on the tip of tongue or finger or nose, illusive and deceptive when all you ache for is something real.

So when I breathe this, will I taste or smell it?

Will I feel some warm glow inside my chest?

Sometimes, I ache to rush the wire just to be able to feel the penetration of bullets or blade, something solid against my flesh.

But this thing they want to make us breath feel as evasive as hope, a tease, a deception, a sneak thief through the back door to eternity when I need to have it hit me full in the face.

Is it hot or cold, this thing they want me to breathe?