Lost in a trance,
the taste of wood and metal filling her mouth,
a beat up #2 pencil dangling from the corner of her red lips
Tiny curled erases pieces scattered across the counter,
the struggle wasn't forming the words,
as they flowed effortlessly,
her handwriting was lackluster at best,
and surely every grade school teacher would recoil in sheer disappointment
Whatever the reason,
the words seemingly lost bits of their meaning,
hideously scribbled across the lined paper
"A lot of good flawlessly straight lines provide me", she thought to herself
She wraps her cold finger tips,
nails darkened with black polish,
around the now warming and delightful toasty mug,
her lips parting every so slowly,
just enough for the warm liquid to slip through them,
heating her insides,
her chest rises and falls gently in an exhaled sigh,
closing her eyes for only a brief moment,
as if to refocus her mind
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