I awaken because I can feel it. Winter is here.
At 1:13 a.m. it arrives on my doorstep, tired and winded,
an old lover I never really wanted to be friends with
but lie to because it sounds better than goodbye forever.
Dragging myself from my almost dreams,
I make myself believe that this ragged blue sweater
I wear like armor against the early winter chill
could have been yours. So I rush outside to imagine
the feeling of you or us, I can’t quite remember it now -
maybe just to feel the cold air caress my face.
Because only in the deep night cold,
when my body still radiates warmth from bed,
can I close my eyes and imagine
you overwhelm me, enter me, pass through me,
sleep inside me -
in all those places no one ever thinks to search,
like the corner of my closet where a sweater,
smelling vaguely like winter rests, waiting to be worn again.
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