Issue 7 - December 2020
9/12/20
By Cassandra Murphy I am sitting in my bed with my eyes closed The lights are still on My shirt is only halfway buttoned, and the bare skin pebbles at the surface And I am wondering to myself why I always act as though I am being perceived Even alone in a cold room, curtains drawn I take shallow breaths and forget what it is to fully exhale I wonder if I breathe beautifully If the air that ďŹ lls my lungs makes music upon impact A day comes that I no longer appear I relax my body, my stomach bloats and my face skin folds and I am truly happy I laugh loudly and someone says they’ve never heard me that loud before My voice always a decibel above a whisper
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