The cloud has risen.
The cloud of uncertainty.
The cloud of lessons that shouldn’t have been taught.
She falters now.
She fears the open space she can see around her.
There was no release in becoming a man.
It was more like checking something off a list.
But, then, men always long for the experience.
She,
Whose name is sugar to my lips.
She,
Who brightens my day by saying my name.
It’s hard to tell if she’s ready for the world.
Pieces of broken conversations
Is what I hold on to.
So,
It’s hard to tell if she’s ready for the world.
She fears that her new message
May not be holy.
I fear
That she may not be real.
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