barbells.

My heart weighs heavily on my chest and some days I wonder how much longer I can go on like this. My shoulders ache from carrying it. Like a too tight bra strap at the end of a long day, leaving marks, ridges. It is not natural. I dream of prying open my ribcage, digging out the cumbersome organ. It was yours to keep. Why did you give it back? Instead you filled it with a heaviness and pushed it back into the cavity when I wasn’t looking. How did I not notice the return? I woke one morning, barbells on my chest, with you, nowhere to be seen.

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