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Jumper

One knick gasped on a splinter

My Jumper, like others before it. A gift?

The ravelled, unravels.

 

Panicked fingertips blanket the frayed thread.

But My Jumper, damaged is.

the jumper.

Heat, no longer no longing at least my shoulder is cool

Neck, scan the room.

They are all wearing Jumpers. Grown smiles,

Grand to curtain contain I am certain, am I?

 

The first and cursory loud eye after My finger rises to pull at the collar

Too brash.

The glances commute my finger down

 

Back in the room. Fleetingly. But

My finger does not know its place.

Up, and it pinches between my chest. The heating comments,

Not hot enough to challenge my cooling breeze.

They carry concern but self awareness arrives.

 

They don’t feel what I feel

 

The Brightest Jumper has the room now. Filling it

With their expectations

Met. With a roar and meeting sleeves and attention elsewhere,

All fingers to the hem, my stomach the first to feel it.

My chest, my shoulders, and for the briefest eternity,

Traps my head in a choice. But there is none,

It scratches and hooks my lips, tickles my nose,

pulls my eyes wide as the collar gives me one last reminder of Its embrace,

that They are all wearing Jumpers.

 

Static, chases it away as I free my head and arms.

Hairs on end, I feel the electricity.

I am charged.

The jumper, holds me no more, I hold it now.

My palm, consciously opens, and the jumper slips from My embrace.

Their sleeves meet for the last time as the roar subsides.

They didn’t notice.

 

I am cool, I do not care.

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