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Copper petals stir whenever I breathe deep into a problem. Tiny pennies, turned heavyweight they won't budge. It's a quiet concentrating game to get them to move. Fill it up, blow off steam, check again, fingers rubbing flesh but I can't quite reach. I'd hate to feel them rust, I try to keep it from raining, to hold off he inevitable wear of the forget-me-not's wound into my stomach, chasing butterflies with darting eyes. Don't run for cover, tug. Breathe deep, copper flutters, falls back down. Breathe deep, too heavy, won't budge, no rain, no rust. Check for change, pressing deep into my own stomach I check for change.


 


Afternote: It's late, so please forgive me if this is the cheesiest thing you've read in your life. Feedback is welcome and heavily encouraged, please.

Created: Apr 14, 2014

Tags: pennies, anxiety, free-verse, stomach, weight, non-fiction, story, fiction

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