The skin of my lips
is peeled off layer by layer
like how I was unzipped
slowly from my Sunday best
by your bare hands
sweater to chest
ribcage to
heart wrapped in your palms
while you warmed it up
like the way you tried to
warm up my cooling tea
right after the last winter breeze's sip

Frigid fingertips and burning lips
I keep peeling off the skin
in pain I bear
as a mere distraction from the aching
distance that now lies between us
and yet I can never change the fact
that my heart was exposed and frozen
when you lost grip on it
and forgot to zip me back up