All Words and None

pressed to my chest
by a bra made for movement; still.

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waist beads (2)

Seven months since.
I’m all words and none.

I cut off my waist beads tonight.
Seven years.

They remind me too much
of the belly that heart failure built.

Seven.  The number of resurrection.
And tonight in that season,

a full moon, the Pink Moon
like spring; renewal.

Pink.  As rose quartz,
crystal of the heart chakra

pressed to my chest
by a bra made for movement; still.

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