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Winter

I was born on the cusp of winter  So naturally, I felt I must be married to the snow and to cold weather  To black ice, hybernation, and great big godly storms  Winter gave birth to me, and I loved her out of obligation  A bitter right of passage  The summer I met you, my hair had finally started to grow long  I had cut it, an awful butchered bob gifted to me in late December  Tied by my own shaky hands and seasonal lack of judgment  I was learning to be gentle with myself, cradle my own skin  What one does in the winter to survive must be left in the cold Only a fool brings a coat into the heat of summer You were always very good about that, leaving things in their respective time  But perhaps that was because you were born on the brink of new beginnings Grace and growth came easy to you Spring exuding, though winter in your Spring's soft shadow  You embodied both the worst and best of each year  The summer you met me, you decided to make some changes To stick around even when the

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