i wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my heart breaking. this time it sounded like a stained glass window hitting concrete.
i can taste the shards in the back of my throat.
take a sip of water (to wash the blood away). find your heartbeat (if only to prove you are still alive). walk around the house and touch things (the old typewriter...the stalks of the blooming paper whites...harper).
the sheets must be cold by now.
so i sit, counting the-space-between-the-seconds, beseeching time and space to do their thing.
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