Air Conditioning

The breeze of AC, the murmur of conversation, a hearty bustle. A cocoon built of gifts, fused by will. Comfort, warm touches, the caress of the past. A place to worship. A place to build, to return you with gifts of your own. I spurned your love and am sorry everyday. The constant flow of AC, hushed tones. Frantic silence, pretending there is no Outside. Alone or not, it matters not; A cage with light filtering in. The faded memories of olive branches, of sad smiles. Stuffing oneself. Pretending you can't fit through the bars. Death cannot hold many together at once. They remember. How does a cage differ from a protective cell How can silence be comforting or frantic Whose love was spurned Why You are awaited