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Endless Weekdays

Raining Tuesdays in November, I miss the kiss of September

The caress of a gentle summer and pollenating time with moments I'll remember.


I'm holding on to strings in this lockin.

Flitering the noise of my housemates singing, Awaiting the door for takeaway ringings.

I miss being.


A pandemic took my affection, Direction.

This mask took my right of expression.

A smile worth Ten grand, our only company is our own reflection. I miss connection.


Days don't begin or end they disconnect, pretend they're my friend.

Manipulated a nation without vaccination, Sanctioned emotion,

Isolation we suffer in your devotion.



- By Anna Johnson

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