the birth of a star.

the word soulmates have a bad rap.

soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no.
they’re instead the ones who make you feel the most.

burning edges and scars and stars.
old pangs, bewilderment and beauty.
like you’ve been winded,
like you’ve surrendered.

jealousy and sweetness,
madness then laughter
a seesaw of delight, delicious
and dangerous doubt.

they hurl you into the abyss.
they lullaby you back in cotton wool.

they taste like hope.

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