bloom

you remember being young

17, 18, 19 —

the feeling of isolation

impressed

permanently, it felt

even when surrounded

by those who

you called “friend”.

that was before the betrayal

the abandonment

the whispers —

you thought you’d be alone forever,

and you wilted

for a dark winter of

ice and cold, frozen bones

aching

gasping

swallowing knives

in search of breath

 

then one day

it passed

you looked up to see

a garden

of smiling faces

blooms

that met you at the end of winter

 

hello, spring.

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