Soul

The soul waits for absolution
Swallows little white pills to sleep
Waits in a drafty corridor
Catching dreams
Always cold
The blankets tuck around the body
There is a disconnect between physics and thought
Her tiny fingers interlace with mine
The smell of washing overrides the pebble dashed walls
We can no longer breathe in peace
We walk in circles
Think in circles
Time to pass
(Whether we want it to or not)
The soul waits for absolution
Swallows little white pills to sleep.