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becoming
“He said, ‘You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of our hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’” -The Velveteen Rabbit
youth and beauty - fade
twinkling lined eyes are
swallowed in folds of
the aftermath of years of smiles
(or shouts)
the grass grows long
sprouts at the tips and
the stream trickles dry and
lined eyes that twinkled grow dim and
sunsets fade to the purest black and
my pen stops spitting ink and
you, with your arms facing down
one palm clenches, the other
kissing the pavement with fingers grown thin
and in that moment, all that remains
are the words
whispered in the long fragrant grass
crafted into poems by the river
unspoken - heard when eyes met yours
hidden in the sky’s ravishing streaks of liquid gold
preserved by the deliberate ink strokes
arranged by smooth,
then calloused,
then memory - folded hands
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