Ethereal

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“I am tired,” she muttered. I’m exhausted. I’m sleepless and radiate in the hurt I embellish. I am so sleepy, but not in the ways you might think. My soul is tired. The weight of a thousand galaxies thrash on my heart and I am...

“I am tired,” she muttered. I’m exhausted. I’m sleepless and radiate in the hurt I embellish. I am so sleepy, but not in the ways you might think. My soul is tired. The weight of a thousand galaxies thrash on my heart and I am left to pick up the pieces. I could see her in an empty field, you see, and I’d still look at the rock and wonder how it came to be here. I’m not sure she’ll ever understand that side of me. Sometimes, I am so deep, that the canyons in my veins bottom out and I am bloodless for lack of a better term. I am humbled in being, but sometimes, I just don’t want to be anything to anyone at all. You see, I am breathless and that of which lies in my heart is mute. You will never hear me, but I am there with a vengeance like that of soldiers on horses. I tromp the very grounds where I plant my seed, I am a hopeless romantic doomed to believe that I will never be enough for you, or anyone for that matter. I am just tired, but it is just that, laying my head to rest I find impossible. I am a marathon constant, one leg short of reaching you, one word shy of figuring out how this rock came to be here.”

Alexandra L. Narron

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