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Writer's pictureElisa Miles

Rested

I so long to be rested really rested

I want to walk into the mirror

or the lake or the sea

disappearing

without a trace

I want to

Lay down

all the thoughts

all the thoughts

laying them down like small children

at nap time

curled like a fetus or

a drying cicada

I want

Those thoughts

that will not slow down

Those thoughts

that keep skipping and jumping and

then running at full speed

but running in a circle

Running in a circle over and over

Thoughts

churning

until

turned into butter

to be spread

on toast with honey


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