The air lies still around me,
stymied by all my not having-weighed down with all my worries.
Heavy upon my chest, stealing relief-not granting it.
I with bated breath and clinched eyes lay still, maybe the air will forget that I am here, and impress its realities upon someone else.
But it remains, stale-its insistent silence its response- to my pleadings.
About Me
- Rachel
- And why don't you write? Write! Writing is for you, you are for you; your body is yours, take it. Helene Cixous
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