sick

A sore throat cherished and nursed by hot sips.
A head of emotions and fluidity.

I equal the clouds, in every manner,
fluffy is my heart, caught cozy warm in blankets of percipitation;
my core, a strong hold on the cold liquid I am made of;
and my exterior, the white, almost translucent, covering to a simple yet unique figure of speech.

Sick, with the knowledge, that of which made me sick.
It appears as though I am not the only one.

Also, it appears, that I love this sickness so, to not care of contamination.

A stuffy nose of indifference, for the ones as lucky as I.
An aching body,  to show you I took your sickness away.

Thanks, for letting me drift, stay.