February 5, 2014
It's hard to see your way out when spaces seem so small,
you hear the wind outside, you can see the ocean waves call.

Standing, you let he blanket ripple to the floor,
you take a deep breath and timorously move to the door.

The knob's cold welcome bites at your fingertips,
the quiver of your mouth urges you to lick your chapped lips.

The frame snaps, the door yawns, and air spills into your dark room,
particles of dust dance in rays illuminating your tomb.

The sun sheds you from your winter skin,
so cold and cracked and stretched too thin.

Peel away the days behind and bring your shoulders away from night,
let the sun rest on your nose and kiss your cheeks in spite.

The frost has tried to gain ground and freeze it beneath you but the sun shines through the fingers of the palms, casting a soft green hue.

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