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He likes my eyes

now that they do not hide

I blossomed

he says

like a flower in springtime

And all the wasted years

fall away like leaves

blushing red upon the ground

How could this be wrong?

I sealed it up for far too long

Nipped the buds

with self-inflicted chill

How many seasons

came and went

beneath the frost

of that unending winter?

But as he said to me

everything has its season

to grow