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  • at the beginning of the day
    i open my closet doors
    but instead of sweaters
    and jeans
    there hangs a row
    of different skins,
    I pick out who I want to be today.
    I have a skin for all types of days
    I have my happy skin
    (Rarely worn)
    That I keep nice and clean
    For special days.
    Maybe I should take it out more.
    My sad skin,
    Has holes worn in the knees
    And the sleeves
    Are splattered with tear stains,
    But it is a good fit for a rainy day,
    Or a Monday.
    My skin for springtime
    Is extra freckled,
    Filled with memories
    Of boys touching my arm
    Admiring the constellations
    Imprinted on me by the sun.
    I usually pick the most common skin,
    Not too worn
    Not too tight
    Just “right” enough to fit in.
    I look like everyone else.
    But to someone who is paying attention,
    I stand out
    At the end of the day
    Exhausted and beaten
    I zip off the skin
    And hang it back up
    In the closet where I found it
    And slip into my own skin.
    It’s hidden in the corner
    Beneath all the others.
    Already worn down and cracked,
    But it fits my elbows just right.
    And I can fall asleep
    In my own skin
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