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Child Being Born
forced into the spotlight before she ever learned to dance
pushed into ribbons and bows before she ever got a chance
cowgirl hats and hot pink skirts
sequins and sparkles and little lace up shoes
she was content before she was sick of her youth
then she grew up a little, and was poisoned
air of pollution or heart easily convinced
consumed by the lack of connection to what she really was
and then she transformed, like a butterfly becoming a caterpillar
walking backwards into a dark corner of mirrors
reflections she didn't recognize
the essence she now clutches
and the genuity she drinks up
the time she wishes to reverse
the longing falls in love with the past
carrying wedding photos everywhere
has she divorced herself? has the summer wind that comes after the dawn become too little to revive whatever that five year winter froze?
she cannibalized her own ever-pale skin
the breakfast lunch and dinner she stopped eating
she doesn't know, and trying to dig past all the clutter is a premature death
but her hair is long now
and her skirts are short
her skin gets tan from the beaches and promised boardwalks
she blushes at text messages and nights out
but behind her pretty face
and her skinny ribcage
is the rush of lost time
running with the blood of her veins
in some ways she is a child being born all over again
even after sixteen years of thinking she had to melt herself and pour out the red wine into another glass
even after all those cloudy days and tears telling her to live another girls life
all the dresses and shoes she bought but never wore
the sun and the stars could still pierce the gloom
leaving little diamonds and pearls behind
A new obsession and a new love
not for something to stab her aura with
she types the loveletters at night to herself
and every morning the future enters her lungs
and her affair with possibility rises from slumber
leaving behind footprints of the kitten heels she bought for her first dance
like the stares she carelessly collects
like the vanity covered in perfume bottles
and the butterflies she lets free to carry her through the days that pain her
days to love the angel wings she always had but never understood
now the feathers bloom like the lilies outside of her
like the future inside of her
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