TEPID

He is not the sun

But if he was,

He would be an Autumn Sun

Enough to melt the ice,

But not warm enough to thaw me

Some parts  still frozen

Waiting to be unearthed

Some  burnt,

left tender

 from the heat of yesterday

While the rest

Sits coldly, 

waiting for a turn

I fear if I wait

for too long

My heart will catch frostbite

So I'll wait long enough

For the cold in my body

And the heat of his touch

To sync and bloom

Into a spring afternoon