Boiling Blood

Uncertainty holds me at a safe distance
For it is only a short time to ponder
That your tongue was not benevolent

Boiling Blood beneath my skin
As the foul breath in the air whispers to me
And engulfs me from within

The flames portray the sunlight
But does not show the true beauty of a sunset
As your bitter words betray my sight

Ignorance lies and shields me from naught
As my face turns void
My sensations shall not be caught

The cool breeze brushes the burning power
The windows to my soul irrigates
For my heart has turned to sour

*** I wrote this poem when I got into work this morning. I was on my way to work from the train station and walked past a young couple having their morning coffee at 6:30am. As I walked past them I could hear the young man say "She's got big arms." His partner then said to him "Look at them from behind"

I could hear them talking about me but I wanted to ignore it. How could I? I kept walking as if I hadn't heard a thing when all I really wanted to to was scream at them. I got into work, sat at my desk and started to cry. Thankfully, it was too early for anyone to be there at that time. I was angry and my blood was boiling so I turned on my desk fan which cooled me down and then I started to write... ***