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  • Walking into rooms, your face never fails to falter

    As if you had come back, from a short absence

    To find the objects changed.

    You shrug off your coat like a disease,

    The shed fabric gathering in your arms. Freed,

    You wander towards the window, eyes filled with longing.

    Already you yearn for wind on skin.

    Coatless, you throw your body out the window –

    You never shiver; cold air runs through you like blood.

    Your body temperature is that of the sky.

    Leaning against the ledge, you feel at home,

    Teetering between worlds,

    With only your skin

    A prison.

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