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melodramatic faucet

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i. hot water gushes onto my hands

i turn my fingers in the light and wonder

if this is what my skin will look like when i'm older

worn into wrinkles by the world


ii. i silently apologize to starving children around the world

as i scrape excess chocolate into the compost bin

after the students have moved on from their cooking classes

in favor of a new adventure

swashbuckling in the sandbox

and pillaging the playground


iii. i see the food scraps fall into the hungry jaws of the trash can

and i know that it will devour me, too, if i let it

maybe i can find warmth in the belly of the beast

and escape the bitterness of the daytime fog

a safe haven nestled into the folds of city craze


iv. blankets are good for disappearing.

sometimes my sister drapes herself in a fluttery pink scarf and 

calls it an invisibility cloak

we pretend to believe her 

so that maybe she can remain protected by the shelter of naivety

for a few years longer


v. it's been said that people who sleep with more than one pillow are lonely

and i can confirm that statement

but when i burrow in my duvet at night to feel loved

sometimes i just feel more alone

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