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Jun 2013
ninety-eight degrees.
one single minute of blood rushing to the heart.
calmly, you turn away
and resume your day.
i'm aware that your pulse
is more regular than mine.

you flashed a brilliant smile
and forced your thoughts upon my own.
my heart was a lovely red
and the sky was my home.

soon later, i saw the darkness you saw in others.
this darkness is quite the affliction.
it is a prescription gone horribly wrong;
costly and effective in ways i wasn't aware.

you see, it is a drug
but it is more so a shovel.
eyes shut, i create my own spot within the earth.

not six feet, not ten, not thirty
but a quaint place exculsively
for my ninety-eight degrees
and my darkness.

subconciously, i've allowed layer upon layer of earth
to compact upon me until i could not feel
one single minute of blood rushing to the heart.

ah, but your obligation has saved me.
you reminded me of how
my ninety-eight degrees, my darkness, and my blood
flows ultimately the same as everyone elses.

you must be a saint to leave me in this quaint spot,
beneath these compact layers of earth.
you set me down gingerly
and strode away with my heart.
my body is here,
but my mind is in the dark.

so thank you for allowing
these roots to wrap themselves around my back.
what an astounding notion
to paint my heart black.
for now i see the benefit in the game.
flying is overrated,
and to feel is a shame.
Sarah Camacho
Written by
Sarah Camacho  Maine
(Maine)   
374
   Max Evans
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