155 (02.01.2015)

You make me feel just like a clunking ship
Or like a discombobulated clown
Beside you as your feathered feet they slip
Along the path as we run into town.
I hear my breathing, wheezing at its best,
And see you breathless gliding on the wind,
I feel my body crying out for rest
Recalling every calorie I sinned.
And when you run your feet they barely touch
The ground on which I long to stop and sit,
Now I know why I don't like running much
And why I think this sport is pretty shit.
I'd much rather sit home and write these things
And give these simple words some sort of wings.

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