tucking away into folds of comfort and promises of the next year
and the next
and the one after that
loses the point of snowfall,
wishing that ice would not melt with a candle
dyeing the world in her own color
not letting it fade when others change her shade
revels in the alignment of paper
in order to feel some control that has become the chance of her life
sounding like a doubter
but exploring the beyond like it is for certain
bellisima
she loves the way life unfolds, unravels
but is never certain of the rules that it follows
on the brink of losing it,
until she realizes she already has
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