Slightly curled, but they straighten as they rise.
Towards the eyes —
Which tell a story,
Try to hide the pain.
But they smile as well.
They want to cry without being watched.
They seek the one who listens.
They seek the one who cares back.
She waits for the one to know the value of her tears.
And then she will fly.
Curled, at first,
But straight into the sea.
And the world will curve around itself,
Her wings will set her free.
And I will be the ocean, watching.
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