The room is dark, and cold, and quiet when I wake, far too late, but I sleep like in a vacuum. The sun rises over the mountains and turns the desert warm. I ran along the ledge, breathless as ever at the view but empty; I only want to go home. The twisted metal of familial wreckage sinks its teeth in my soft flesh and I cannot sew myself back together fast enough before it bleeds again. They ask questions but none of my answers are right; their disapproval sprinkles every meal. I go to bed full.
Long for hunger and the city's restless sleep again.
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