22:105
There’s a body in my bed,
breathing,
but not alive,
its warmth is real
but there’s no feeling,
no recognition
of a connection
or a need for anything.
Will it ever move again?
Do you want it to?
Fiction and poetry writing, recapturing the muse.
22:105
There’s a body in my bed,
breathing,
but not alive,
its warmth is real
but there’s no feeling,
no recognition
of a connection
or a need for anything.
Will it ever move again?
Do you want it to?