There is something I only told you
when we finally got down on our knees sorrounded by ashes:
I was raised on war.
I were always ready for battle.
Without knowing it, I had built myself the tools to fight.

Between all the compliments you ever said,
there is nothing I did not know already.
But I will not deny they sounded delicious.
That I am strong.
That I am fire.
That I am truth.
That I am endless worthy.
Your best baits.

It is good you could only fake about your own beats.
That the rest was real, and touchable, and there, and then.
How proud of me I finally am.
Nobody said it would be easy.
But now my soul is some grams wider.
I shed my skin.
So I may high five your ghost soon around.

And the times I still miss you, it will be an oasis.
For I will remind how good guilty pleasures feel.
And the times I still blame myself, it will be a mirage.
For I will miss the innocence that drew out my blossom.
If that would happen again,
I will blink an eye to my heart to clear the views.
And I will calmly smile for after you
still loving life in danger.


I had to commit you.
I had to build our wrong chrysalis to become this butterfly I am today.

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