often blue.

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there's always that tired morning candlelight of sadness
that washes over my existence and reminds me to stay still.

 

because if i were to move, what's left of my rib cage
would collapse.

 

the empty pit of my torso would be nothing but bones and regret.

 

but this is nothing new.

 

but sometimes i crave this collapse because maybe the cave
of my body wouldn't be so empty.






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