because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

psyche’s curse

heavy air sharp,

cold bursts from

lungs

imagined

exploding with

rightness

at a touch

in darkness

tongue’s grit,

coarseness of a single

stranded hair

also dark

also imagined

a brush of hands and

pressure gently building

with ache I turn away

from the pillow

breathe

the artificially warmed molecules

of here,

endless grains of sand

oppressive in their

reality.

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