endings
don't feel like loss anymore,
just like
beginnings
don't feel like love.
growing up is a lot of pain,
not a lot of learning. there's nothing
called learning. there's only making
the same mistakes over again until
you move on to newer pastures,
easier ways to break to heart
or lose a key in the grass.
all the big feelings
come out sometimes,
when i listen to music
in the bus, or watch
the shadows and light
dance like lovers.
the rest of the time
i have learnt (reached)
to live without big feelings:
no big sadnesses, no expansive
sunlit joys, no grief that calls
to the stars. it's alright, it is.
i hide my tongue
in a secret place,
and water my soul
like a tender thing.
better days arrive
like majestic birds.
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