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Bedpost with Hallway Closet in Distance. day 2 by somethingdignified
The same room. The same bedpost. The same way my back hurts when I sit like this. But having to notice it now. My door is actually more closed (than I guess it usually? is) than yesterday. I feel less enamored, less romantic. No sticky dripping, no word fuzzy enough to digitize the stuffy demand of analogy. Today is a lie in bed all day and stare at a brown, flattened spherical bedknob nailed to a bedpost. With a white door focused or unfocused in the distance, whichever I choose. It's when I choose that I can tell there is more going on. And today I choose for it to not. After all, they are component 12-133-c and component 1441-12-d of my house. Here to serve me. Lovely. I picked them. I need not be told. But for all the crystal ball whorling of a gypsy disco I swear, these two will be the death of me. And if so they will not care, and if not I might get a wink or two at a garage sale. Otherwise, it is their indifference and my attempts to emulate them until tomorrow. When I may be more inclined to try. When my bedroom door is opened wider and I can see them lost in doting and jaded indignation.
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