extraction

there may be
something in
my heart
that is colorless.
a shallow, watery
puddle, that at times
overflows
into nothing,
and at other times
drains
into nothing.

something is missing.

my blood doesn’t
boil or chill or
pulse fiercely.
it may have
turned into air
that sits still
in my veins.
unstirred.
unmoving.

i am floating away.

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Categories: Poetry

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