Mouth Breather
I stare at the screen,
eyes half open,
nose red and raw,
head in a fog.
I almost forget what it's like
to be
sick.
Until it catches me again.
I don't catch the cold.
It always
catches me.
My bed yields
as I crumple into the covers
three hours
too early.
Mason jar full of
water,
well-stocked tissue
box.
All of the nightstand
essentials.
Ready to heal.
I hate being a
mouth breather.
eyes half open,
nose red and raw,
head in a fog.
I almost forget what it's like
to be
sick.
Until it catches me again.
I don't catch the cold.
It always
catches me.
My bed yields
as I crumple into the covers
three hours
too early.
Mason jar full of
water,
well-stocked tissue
box.
All of the nightstand
essentials.
Ready to heal.
I hate being a
mouth breather.
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