Getting your hands dirty always happens when you don’t plan on it
flour wedged under too long fingernails
embossed with the imprints of your unwashed sheets because you just couldn’t wait to get to sleep
you laid there though, not moving but completely awake
unsure of what came first your doubt or that phone call
kneading dough is oddly therapeutic when you’re thinking about ending things
you know it’ll just rise back up after you punch it down
but there’s only so much yeast
at one point or another it’ll get punched and stay down
then you’re left with tough bread
something that used to feed thousands but somehow fell short in your loaf pan
you punch it again, this time achieving nothing but blowing off steam
you don’t need the carbs
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