Sitting in the tub, head bent- the spray showering down on me; its silent, except for the water And its a small thing, but I love it, you can’t take it from me.    the lines in a hand, tendons flexing, veins bubbling to the surface- such aesthetic beauty to me- such wonder in a hand, you can’t take it from me.  I’m running away from the change. From the knowledge.  From the being.  From the doing.  I don’t know how to break through I don’t know how to get anyone to listen to me.  I wrap myself in silence, blanket my world with denial, so that I don’t have to face it.  I’ll never get what I want that way.  I don’t know what I want.    

@1 year ago
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