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05 December 2012 @ 09:39 pm
 
I sought solace in hands but when anyone tries to cup water, carrying their hands to their mouth, water always seeps through fingers. There is never enough to quench. Eventually we stop trying. I am the woman dying of dehydration who lies down in the rain, too exhausted to bring a glass to her lips.

I swallow the word ‘hospital’, it too is too large to chew. You ask lungs or heart, I tell suffocation and shards unmendable. To try to fix me is to be blinded.

Don’t tell me my story is too sad. This I know. My winter is imprinted with fear.


(i can't reply to your comments now, but know that i hold you in my heart.)