am i making sense?
By viridiana alfonso

 i have been working up the courage to ask
(for so long i forgot why):
may I reach for your hand?
i’m cold.
(i miss the warmth of human touch).
the fire in my veins
lost its embers long ago.
the first to be claimed to be lonely is my heart.
(it thumps so faintly, i wonder if i’m still alive).
the second, my lungs.
(they scream for something more than just air).
while i may still have my sense of taste,
i lost my sense of savor.
(there is more to it than dryness in my mouth).
my ears hear, but i no longer listen.
(did i, in the first place?)
my eyes see, but I don’t process.
(three seasons passed, and i can’t remember what they looked like).
please, may i hold your hand?
i can touch, but more than that,
i want to feel again.
(anything anything anything).