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Nov 2015
an ache
breathes like a sigh through my lower back
the way I'm always hunched like this
when I'm too far into a cluster of worries
unknowingly curving my tired body
in the same spiral my brain is going
like a snail hiding in its shell
I don't think he loves me
I'm not sure he ever did
the sleepless thought gloops through my mind like a trail of slime
what he needed was another night
what I needed was the same, but
with instead of without
reassurance of a warm chest against my back
instead of doubts stacked like rocks on my shoulders
already carrying the weight of my whole house
I slowly glide through life, leaving
dribbles of me everywhere
gross remnants that most people avoid
room full of takeout wrappers, greasy paper bags
wet tissues in damp fluffy piles on the floor
I wanted to be close
but who could bear to spend another night
missing out on the stars and covered in slime?
Written by
   Connor Ruther
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