182 lede

A Still Life by Georgina Terry

Old wallpaper / Run my hands along it, / Lime green, bumpy / / I open the front door and then close it again / Loudly, performatively / Shutting out the outside world / There is more of that to be found insides / I laugh, / The breath escapes me / But the sound withers within. / / Noiselessly, I return up the stairs. / Taking my place as an intruder / That vilified fate of expired visitors / / I walk into a room / The safety of a cupboard
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