Stillness, part 2 LILY ROSS
The distance between us swims inside of itself, sighs bathwater onto the edges of my freshman year dorm room, stretches its veins so wide that all i can see is glitter floating above me, the thrashing of muffled sound before me, the smell of red ink below me. I reach out my arms, open my palms and fill them with quietly thickening thinness, I raise my hands to my lips and sip until my eyes are the blue-green-greyyellowy footprint of my own, living stillness.
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