Juice

When the winds
of life change 
from icy chill
to cooling breeze
from huddling cuddles 
to languid lounging 
so does the 
expression of same 
one causes retreat 
the other welcome 
and like a 
vise of vices
I am pinched
between my exile 
and my desire 
squeezed by isolation 
then by arms
and the juice 
of me stored
or maybe swallowed