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The time is crawling

by Jane McCourt

The time is crawling

On this slippery Friday afternoon.

My body is trapped

In an hourglass room.

My poor empty body

Can no longer feel the pain.

There is a dry flower

In the corner.

I have been staring at it

For the past hour.

Does it crave love

That I can no longer give?

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Saturday 6th February 2021 10:16 pm

philosophical   metaphysical   sentimental

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