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#I rarely post my little blurbs here; much less unedited and raw so be nice
moonchild-in-blue · 4 months
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Your face is a window
Sometimes it's 15:18 on a Wednesday; you're making coffee, water on a kettle, tugging on your sleeves to stave off the cold.
The skys are blue and bright and out of reach, hidden behind blurry windows. Droplets of yourself cling to the glass.
Condensation.
They too are trying to stave off the cold.
There is music playing ; the butterfly album that flutters quietly in your heart. You hold a spoon, cold steal, and weep.
Your tears faces run down the windows,falling from the sky to your hands.
I'm letting go I'm letting go I'm letting go-
The water is ready.
- a nothing writing about 50 minutes ago
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