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Strip

It is winter, again. I feel it
In the bite of the air
That kisses down my throat.

I felt it as my stripped skin clung
To my bones as wet paper,
And slapped against my thighs;
Heavy with dread.

I felt it when the sun struggled
And sank
Beneath the thick, grey fist
Of the darkening sky.

And I felt it when the gaps
In my heart
Opened wide enough again
For the wind to whistle through.





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