Summer Skin

A peculiar feeling of bittersweetness
like shedding your summer skin 
to make room for the rawness of autumn,
cold breezes penetrating deep into your bones.

You’ve been asleep for months, lulled by the warmth and humidity
of things being “just fine,”
when the sharp tongue of the first breeze hits your cheek,
shocking you awake and making you burrow into your covers,
only for a moment.
Till the comforter turns from embrace to chokehold
and you fight to untangle yourself, every second feeling like an hour,
panic starting to build until at last you’ve pried your foot free, 
fling the weight off your chest and drink in a lungful, desperate,
until your heart rate slows to a steady rhythm and your back loosens
as you stretch languidly, letting each part of your body reach and reach,
certain that this is the morning where you separate completely.

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