January 2011
2 posts
Margins
I’m working my way up to asking how your day was but I lose my breath and throw a fit because I used to be a part of it.
Now I’m lying on an empty bed which I’ll fold into a couch instead since I don’t need the extra space that recalls why I’m always awake now. Every forced sentence gives a sense of caution and gives me this awful, awful image of a kid at the beach...
