Saturday, June 18, 2011

I built a little prison up, around myself. Put bars on all my windows and guarded the door. Then I curl up in a ball at the head of my bed and close my eyes. The bars come down. Open them. I can see the sky. I can pretend your lips are hovering over me, here. If I sing to myself I can pretend you are singing with me. What if I peeled the entire first layer of skin off of my body?; I shaved a thin layer of skin off the back of my ankle this morning in the shower. It was an accident and it hurt. Now I can see the sky, hear the cars. I wish I had gotten up at 7 in the morning. Some days we're just inside a prison.

June 18 2011

1 comment :

  1. Brrr, I like this as a paragraph of writing. It is beautiful and achy. (But I don't want the person writing this to feel this way deeply or for long times.)


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