I found a cushion to curl up on.
The loveseat winced under
my weight. I turned its red velvet
burnt orange. There was a small fire.
A quivering blue core asked me if
I could name a few moons just to
pass the time. Before I could begin,
I heard Bea Arthur whisper from the
television in the other room,
I could vomit just looking at you.
Quiet. I wait patiently for the ice
that the weatherman blushes over.
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