You arrived like fireworks. 

Blinding, exciting. Dangerous.

Like a long forgotten and tattered quilt I found in a closet, 

you were…comfort.

I resisted. 

And resisted. 

And resisted.

Until I didn’t.

Candy-coated hugs. Caring forehead kisses.

Little girls. Best friends. Soulmates, we said.

Bound by our vulnerable parts, and god, and stardust.

But we were not children.

That was old pain with a new view.

Now new pain with an old view.

Of departure.

And grief.

And missing.

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