Nothing survived

I am drowning with envy

Of that protagonist I created

Who fleshed out her adolescence

Within the confines of the hot pink iron lung I created

For her to feel safe in

As I languish in the space between

My fresh white linens which my godmother gifted me

And my weighted blanket

Nothing survived the fire but me

I wanted black sheets before I realized

They would inevitably collect lint

And the whites she offered

Provided some clean, cool oblivion

But I sweat through them

In the dreams of fire licking my flesh

When I wake up, there it is

An actual pool of sweat

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One thought on “Nothing survived

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