The room was stagnant
and still and
somehow piercing.
(I had a really
great line
for this part, but
I forget)
There was something
stirring inside me
but I had become accustomed
to these inconveniences.
I looked over
to a bleak nightstand;
“separation happens
in life”
… wouldn't it be nice
if we could shake life up
like a snowglobe
and redo everything
every now and then?
[insert great
ending line here]
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