Sunday.
Ifie Natasha Brandon

In bed on a Sunday
Wishing time could stop for just one lifetime
Or one minute beyond the time it takes to make sense of it all.
Hope has been deferred like student loans I can't pay back
My soul feels emptier than a new bag in a trash can
My dash cam projects the events of the future but my sight feels like it's limited
Prohibited from being free
I lay in bed sometimes still wondering if he thinks about me
And him
But that's just boredom
Because as long as we fought to be together
We're too toxic to move forward
I think
We just missed it by a day or two
Like delays are few and far between on far flights but they exist right
But they persist right?
They insist right?

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