Maybe while peeling a lime.
Or when applying curly eyelashes.
Or when your heart stings from a million lightning flashes.
When you feel most certainly alone.
That the world is playing you the dial tone.
That you are in complete solitude.
From longitude to latitude.
As if you were on the tippy top of a mountain.
Tiny, small, insignificant, and frivolous.
Looking the Earth in the face, her eye sockets filled with wistfulness.
Billowing over into the sands of time.
And if you screamed until the next apocalypse.
Sounding like a sonic boom.
Putting your ears in their tomb.
Not a being would blink.
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