My Compassion's mute by her bedside
My bodies a host, a stopped up drain
She sucks for emancipation
And yet there is no air, no pillow light enough to
bring sleep or dreams
Hours n' hours a night I lay
Shaky awake to her needs
I fluff, I prop, I smile to soothe
Counting my silence less I scream.
Copyright © Meghan G | Year Posted 2012
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