Leave my winter wounds alone
Mean, barren sun.
At the park
I let giggles slide on my skin
like bubbles
I lightly and heavily swim ahead
hoping they will not leave a permanent mark.
At home, I read about suicidal rates rising in the spring.
The perfect sharp shallow disc of the full moon
severs my heart fine.
It has been known for more than 50 years
It is a dramatic increase
of nearly 50% successful cases.
My photo.
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