writing makes me
me feel better.
writing makes me
feel
cleaner.
summer seems
to arrive,
like a momentary
rainbow in
a
breath of water.
summer seems
to arrive
and yet i still
wear my earmuffs.
the cold of winter
rings a
cruel memory in my mind.
writing makes
me feel
healed.
i look at my
bare neck in the mirror;
not even one necklace
who am i without
an n
around my
neck?
who am i
if not strangled by
my identity?
i look at the marks
on my face
and the scars of
youth and
i am
thrilled
for the spots i
picked.
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