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Numb
One couldn’t help
But imagine her
With her pillows,
Blankets and laptop
Curled in a corner
Of her bed,
The world shut away
For the weekend
Except for an occasional
Glance out the window
At the motel across
The way,
Did she wonder
What went on in
Those rooms,
What the shadows
On the blinds and
Curtains were up to,
Or was she now
All numb to that.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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