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wheedle him

he smells like wood
and fresh blades of grass

you swallow your nerves
and choke on butterflies
as you say hi after class
and his eyes look like rain during
the summer where concerts took over
and he has sunshine-woven hair
so you swallow your nerves
and choke on butterflies
because he’s there
and you’re here
paper-thin confidence and
needlelike charm
you fall at an alarming rate
head over heels
heels over head
into the arms of a boy who
smells like wood
and fresh blades of grass



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