My bones feel rigid
like I’m living with rigor mortis,
depression’s equivalent
of arthritis.
There’s nothing the doctor can prescribe;
sunshine cannot be packaged
and nor can your smile
so I guess I’ll just wait
in my heaviness.
This opaque silence
where nothing can relieve
the nothingness I feel
whenever you leave.
© Kristiana Reed 2019
An impacting piece made more so by your reading of it.
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Thank you ☺️
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You are kindly welcome 🙂
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