Do you hear what I hear?

When I speak the words aloud

Are you listening to each pause?

The whispers between the sounds

Sibilant sighs, plosive pops and

Friction reflected in fricatives?

The more clipped and precise my

Consonants and vowels

The angrier I am.

Do not mistake my veneer

For truth, I will remain

Icily polite.  Strangers may not

Understand the depth of rage

Concealed beneath these dulcet

Tones. But trust me

When you listen

To what I do not say

You will hear my thoughts

And then, if you are wise

Turn tail and flee

Before my temper

Gains its head

Love in a cold climate

Frostbite in the morning, wake with icicles on nose
I see breath in the bedroom as I fumble for my clothes.
Some people might view our affair as no more than a fling
But when the boiler’s broke in winter and you’re suffering
A portable hot-water-bottle, when all’s done and said
Is hardly to be sniffed at – so we ended up in bed.
Perhaps when sultry summer comes we’ll share this spot no more
As love born of necessity will melt away, mid-thaw.
But until nights grow warm enough to sleep apart, my love
I pray our hearts and minds in constancy stay hand in glove.