For Sara Jama's Memories Lost Within A Frozen Mist Poetry Contest
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In times when I was met with frigidness, and cruelty scraped my fragile skin, I may have whimpered like a pup or merely shaken it off. Those memories remain somewhere in my brain but not in a place of joy or of grace. I prefer to lock up old injuries, and some I may have concealed so very well they linger as in a fog. Unlike the bliss of a first kiss, my deepest cuts and wounds have become memories lost within a frozen mist.
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