The small dark places are the ones I love best.
The small dark pockets between time and space that fold me
inside
like soft
warm
dough over gooey filling.
These are the places that keep out the world.
These are the places that keep me inside.
This is where the wind blows.
Where the cold wind blows the fractured pieces of me around
to scrape
and cut
at me.
No one can see my wounds.
They are inside,
Inside where it is dark.
Darkness hides darkness and I am unseen.
I am invisible to the world, and I am safe.
And I am safe.

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