how it begins

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butterfly wings
aren't as sharp as you remember
they don't flood your heart
and fill your lungs
didn't they used to suffocate you?

his smile
is so bright it should hurt
(shouldn't it?)
but this time
you don't cover your eyes

your heart beats fast
but this time
your feet aren't at the precipice; the cliff
this time
when you jump,
your scream isn't fear
it's joy

has the fall always felt this free?
has the water always been this warm?
have blue eyes always been so pretty?
deep down, you know the answer:
you never really looked until you saw his

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