When is a cell finally too small to hold our essence?
Multiple closets for different needs. Overkill.
Which weakness shall I tell her? “I walk funny,” I say, and she’s satisfied with that. (inside joke)
I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)
...and time becomes a forgotten detail.
Picture yourself five years from now. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there.