When they ask you how you’re feeling, do you tell them about the matches of your old memories setting fire to your young heart?
Do you tell them how those flames keep spreading so slowly, hence very carefully to every inch of your smiley face, each time some stranger in the night calls you “beautiful”? Do you rather confess how that smile has been frozen in time the moment you realized that time was just an illusion of your own thoughts. Well, is it?
If so, why do your knees keep shaking just like your inner child after having their first swim of the year, when your head unintentionally turns back for a second? For only a second.
It’s probably not enoguh, but the only way you know how to see yourself differently.
You think you are a butterfly that just flew away from the perfect flower, because it was too perfect. Well, was it?
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