I think about blooming
and how I’m going to
nip this in the bud.
I think about all these
little bruises and how
I must have gotten them.
I think about small towns
and how I’m not ashamed
to be from one.
I think about your fingers
clutching that lantern. Please
lead me safely into the night.
There is a smattering
of red stars on my right hip.
I think I felt your hand there.
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