Cobblestone Stomach


I can’t feel my heartbeat anymore.

Thump. Thump. Breathe.

The dark gray cobblestone gets eroded by rain.

Thump. Thump. Breathe.

The rainwater collects in my gut, swirling in poignant disarray.

Thump. Thump. Breathe.

The drips fly down the window pane. My fingers are cold.

Thump. Thump. Breathe.

I don’t understand the patterns the rain makes.

I try to make sense as they rush away, flooding through the crevices in my brain.

Thump. Thump. Breathe.

Thump. Thump. Breathe.

Thump… thump…

 

Cobblestone stops.

The rain flows.

There is no breath.

There is no beat.

There is no end.

 

I can’t feel my heartbeat anymore.

The cobblestone sits.

The cobblestone waits.

For the thump, thump, breathe…

 

 

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