I am draped within the ocean
Fluid, undone
I cannot find where I end
How do you leave?
Not a place
But an orientation
Mending from the clutches of fever and flu
That comes in waves
Not unlike the Atlantic below
I repotted an orchid yesterday. She had been calling me to do it for a while but I kept putting other priorities first.
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These walls hold ghosts of you
You are lying in the bed, sitting at the desk,
Dreaming of what could be
If.