Balls of my Feet

In the past hour I’ve become
slow
in my reaction time;
effortless
in my facial expression.

Carelessly dragging
the balls of my feet
as if bound to weights
heavier than a heart
pulsing with
red water.

It is not as though
you do not matter
to me,
but that I cannot
show it
at this moment …

For I am too busy
wallowing
in self-pity;

ask me again
later.

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