The Runaway Muse

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A personal blog

Stuck

She hates the fullness
more than anything else,
except perhaps the
emptiness.
She tells herself that this
doesn’t make sense,
that perhaps she is only crazy,
after all.

Frowning, prodding
the rounded mass of flesh that is her
abdomen, watching as it
expands before her eyes,
larger and larger until she
convinces herself that has
swallowed a cow.

Heavy, oh so heavy.

She longs to be empty,
weightless, because only then
can she hope to be filled.
There’s no room left for filling,
not like this.

Curling up on the
patchwork quilt her mother
found at a thrift store,
she squeezes herself tight,
making herself a
ball, one that becomes gradually
smaller, until at last
it becomes completely
invisible.

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Filed under: Poetry, Uncategorized

About the girl


Christina. 18. College student. Lover of words, sublime images, fat books and skinny jeans. Dislikes melting snow, the color pink, and procrastination.

This blog is an outlet for my jumbled thoughts. Thank you for stopping by.

Runaway-Muse @ Flickr