I steal the silence.
The air is crisp tonight, and my chest hums with a certain happiness,
a broken quiet.
My lungs are feathers
Slowly, I bury my toes into the soil and I feel them
thrum below the earth.
The roots of the trees
spread signals across my feet;
primitive neurons clamber up my ankles.
The street lamp pulses through
its vacuum of voices,
and I swallow it up, absorb it in my pores.
I close my eyes
Written by Hannah Butcher
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