The kind that breathes under
your bed within the
deepest, darkest, corner
of your mind. Living loveliness
from a bouquet of roses.
In the end
a windy walk home.
I was flirting with danger
all along. A long, humiliating night
listening to the music
that was never gone too far.
I am who I am.
Even on my
birthday, I can
sing. So, tiny little Monster,
I give you -
my stars.
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