we make do.

we eat worry

with yesterday’s leftovers,

anxiousness swallowed down

with a bit of bread

that we bought with loose change

found between seat cushions

years of empty pockets

have left us accustomed

to its stale taste

it will be another long day today

the poems will have to wait

there is rarely time for writing anymore

if we aren’t working

our time is stolen by daily chores

and doctor appointments

on the rarer days,

when the quiet greets us,

our minds are still consumed

with this sense of foreboding

we can’t seem to escape

it’s rather suffocating,

always falling short of thriving

most days, we’re barely surviving

our wallets are paper thin

and the coffers are empty

our hearts are full though,

and i suppose

that makes us richer than most

– ashley jane

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