Hovering over the sink
Toes white from straining to get a better look she’s bug eyed in the mirror
The middle finger of her bony and poorly circulated right hand presses hard into her lower eyelid
“Squishy” she whispers to herself
No ones home but when she’s flying high she enjoys the silence
Feels energy like vapor trails in Wilbur Park
Doesn’t wanna ripple the atmosphere
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