Stripped from all coverage, Dropping down to my knees. I fall asleep in a bed of dead roses After weeping for hours: I have nurtured the life I was blessed with With my salted tears Until I killed them, And now, here, I must nest. “Where have you been?” I ask myself Painstakingly. The silence penetrating me So blatantly. “This is what it feels like when you face what’s in front of you,” I tell myself. As though I am two different people. Two different selves. One armoured, the other not. Now that I am stripped, I ask, “What were you shielding yourself from?” And “you,” was my answer. - Juliette Storm Hunt