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Some days I find it hard
to pull back the duvet,
to function.
On these days
loneliness shadows me
like a cat waiting for food,
insistent, loud.
The halls of my familiar home
seem hostile,
close on me like an enemy.
Every movement is an effort
of thought.
Sun shines through the glass
but does not reach my skin to warm it.
I find my corner,
filled with pillows and books,
and hide for a while.

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