Tank tops and sweaters,
And coats.
I pull them over paper thin, skin.
Leggings that hug my waist
Because beneath this, jacket
I won't be able to feel your hands.

Socks and boots,
And maybe something with a hood.
My fingertips are ready, for the cold
I want them to go numb with it.

The last time you touched, me
I swore I was dying.
You breathed into my lungs
And I could feel, the flowers
Emerging beneath my ribcage.

When you sat up, I pulled on my tshirt
And slipped
My arms into a sweater,
As if that would stop the thorns from poking through my skin.
I went for a walk because I couldn't feel my toes.

Onions have layers, if you peel back
All of them
You're left with nothing but red eyes.
When I got home I stood in the doorway; and whispered

*Take them off