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The Cure


Sometimes you find your cure,

Not a substance, but a person.

Who binds the threads and mends the breaks,

Repairing the scars left from the ones before.

You’re weak, but build your walls,

You fasten your grip, brace for impact.

Crash, bump, and bruise,

Never let another in, no trust in the fall.

No escape from your own mind.

Guarded and reserved,

Scared of what she might find,

Hoping you two will be aligned.

Is it fate or is this bait?

A gaze into the mirror brings no pleasure,

Reflection of a person you’ve barely known.

Seeking approval from those before her,

Which version will she prefer?

Scared to feel,

Once under the knife,

Living in a state of strife.

Love was once a bitter deal.

She walks into your life, knowing she’ll be your wife.

Her eyes kiss your skin,

Hands engulf your body,

Chasing the lure, she is the cure.

She infects you with confidence,

Fashioning threads of worth,

A smile with miles,

Once living in fear, now she's here.

She understands the risk, but takes the fall.

Morning and dusk, intertwined arms and toes.

Tight squeeze filling me with life, someday she will be my wife.

Slowly you repair, noticing that she stayed.

Ears fill with songs of our sweet melodies,

Whispering words of affirmation,

Realizing that love has no ends,

It’s a rat race that mends.

xo, bee

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