Everything Fabulous

I feel like Im 17 again. When my skin fit. When eyes fell softly on me. When my wingspan held the weight of me. When fingerprints grazed but never sat on me. My neck and waist were free of them. When empty was good. Only room to be filled. Nothing to be stolen. Taken. Consumed.  So much life lived since then.  Yet this pen feels light again.  And now, ink and words are pulled out of it. With promise spilling from it.

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