nakedness

Something is wrong with me, a
coldness like the longest stretch of that
last week of winter, the one
before you start to catch sight of hoping
spring, when it seems as though all
your days and nights will end with the same mundane
routine of shedding layers too mindless
to examine what your numb
fingers are fumbling with.

We undress to sleep, we
quietly take off those things that
hide our nakedness from ourselves

I feel like I am forgetting to do that
I feel like every day I am
sleeping clothed, slowly
forgetting what my naked body looks like
in all its honesty.