stepping softly inside a small silent hole in a very noisy space, gathering into tired arms an exhausted body, less a soul, or so it would seem at first. eyelids rolling open enough for me to see life and a million beautiful pieces of the universe, trapped.

falling back into the noise i forget who you were and there is only feeling, too much.

some days we do not care to see a thousand lives end around us.

others we are torn by a mouse caught in a trap that we ourselves set.

each movement of your finger across your face, smudging black ink across the pale skin, i am reminded that you do not notice me crumbling before you, ever. i have perfected this art, it was conquered most easily with a vague understanding of the way that the world stares into the eyes of someone in pain. or rather, how it will not, startling the quick fall of a strangers gaze when something so simple as emotion presents itself.

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