warmer

sometimes

it feels less like settling into a new identity

than adapting to a new skin

i wonder

if it’s supposed to feel like this all the time

hanging loose off my bones

the breeze brushing cold against my veins through the places it doesn’t fit right

frost creeping in and caressing my lungs and my heart

shouldn’t it hug my body tight?

fit like i want it to?

straight and tall and clean-cut and thin

soft edges hidden behind folds of fabric

make people confused when they look at me

instead it itches

chafes, unsecured, around my legs and chest and arms and tells me

this skin was not meant for you

sometimes

i feel like a liar

like it would be better to just put on my old skin and my old face

ignore the places where it holds me too tight

and burns against my bones

because that’s easier 

and then somebody says my name

and it gets tighter

with every affirming word, gets tailored to the shape of me

with the scratch of markers on my arm, making this skin my own

the snip of scissors in my hair

the words of the music i've memorized so thoroughly it runs in my blood

like zipping up a soft jacket

like someone squeezing my hand

it gets warmer

 

winterway

VT

17 years old

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