51st circ

memory

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When certain light changes the whole room

I like the moments that take my knotted, nervous stomach and turn it into a feather floating on top of a puddle. When the sun is low and golden and it glows through the bedroom window. It becomes something else entirely. A space for dreams and clouds and soft things. I close my eyes and picture that my thighs are pressed against warm concrete instead of the sandy-colored carpet.  

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