• Hannah Flowers

i sit in the entryway from the back hall into the bathroom and chip away at the old paint from the door frame mindlessly similar to the way i imagine you chipped the soul from my body inch by inch, lovelessly i try to make sense of things as i lie on the ceiling but the world won’t stop spinning long enough for me to think and i don’t want to sleep because when i do i dream of you your skin, soft and warm hue of ivory with a peachy tint your eyes, deep and dark like the autumnal evening sky time runs backwards and still, i race against it even in the company of friendly faces i nurse my drink and fade out of view when i say that i want to go home what i mean is, i want to go to you

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where is my heart?

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the wool

you made me feel like you loved me even when you don’t. it was just enough for me, ignoring reality for a dream. though the wool was thin, it sat snug against my eyes, nonetheless. i could sculpt it i