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butterflies    (Continued)

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don't be afraid when i say it's almost
as if you're here.
the cubicle is confined and small,
forget about claustrophobia.
my eyes leave their sockets and see
you standing
by the mirror whispering,
“it's okay, love, you can come out now,”
surrounded by birds,
immortal birds
twittering a song no perfectionist
could sing.




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