-
I told him I was numb and the banners of my
will waved white.
It was straining under the weight of my
constant wishing.
I wanted the world to
yield and wait.
My time was liquid numbers slipping through the holes of
moments unlived.
I was worried about the ground beneath me and the sun in the
sky.
What does it feel like to sleep without
a blanket of anxiety
and
a pillow of concern? 

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