Breakfast,
served with nothing but silence and
lukewarm orange juice,
always felt
hopeful
untouched.
The afternoon would fade in
blurry and dull
3:00 meant walking alone
enamored by the cracks in the pavement
while the harsh January wind bit
relentlessly
at my face
so much so that I was sure
that when I checked the mirror
above my dingy white sink
I would see gaping holes
where flesh should be
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