En Courage

I bet she wants
to dangle from your lips
like a cigarette;
willingly burning up to ash
under your touch.

I bet she strings up
butterflies between her ribs;
plays marionette,
finds comfort in knowing
things won’t move unless
she wills them to budge.

I notice,
I talk about myself too often.
Not just with her,
or her,
but them in general,
yet my battle has
been won.

I want her to know
that she is beautiful.
That not all boys leave you broken,
and sometimes, you don’t learn,
until your swan song
gets sung.


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