Here i lie

And here I lie, prostrate on the floor, pantyhose constricting my bloated stomach and torn at the toes, my dress worn too many times and washed too little. Hair a mess, hands uncomfortably cold and body warm. I’m trying to be poetic; trying to find a kind of stanza between my tired eyes. But I find no romance in this position, of me, ugly and sprawled, body parts strewn across hardwood.

I’m sleepy.
I’m sleepy.

My, it’s hard to sleep.

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