So many misconceptions of boys with brass knuckles and moonlight teeth, family’s are just illusions, a glass castle floating in the palms of your hands, trying to conceal the bruises he left on your bones– I grew up believing you had flowers in your voice, I grew up believing I could hear them in my own;
I spent the past three nights listening to the silver in my laugh,
trying to scrape your name out of my throat–

I hope one day I will outgrow my skin,
the body everyone says looks just like yours
I hope one day I will outgrow your stubbornness
your lionhearted confidence,
your thunderstorm laughter and your rose thorn hands,

I hope one day I will outgrow this body,
so I will never have to say I am anything like you.

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Cory Garcia
plus de 5 ans

Using the word "again" at the very end makes it poignant from both sides of the dynamic...

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