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we all die

my son whispers as he runs his fingers through his hair

and looks at his face in the mirror,

innocence waning.

He wraps his heart around the concept

like it's the most normal thing,

this dance with fading moments

never to be captured, these notes we sing,

all while I stand there

a solitary, graying figure

surrounded by plastic bottles

one for beauty, one for health, one to smell like youth

all promising that I will never meet my end,

I pay for lies, because they feel better than the truth.

I refuse to accept that my son will see the ends of my days

the last chapters I write, the way the sun fades

as I stand there, still, surrounded by bottles

that will last longer than I, or he, or the ground underneath

his children's feet.

He opens the window and leans out

trying to see the my face in the open sky

I smile and tell him

I love him

he reminds me: we all die

so I reach for him

and as I do, the bottles topple around me

and I know that sometimes

the truth collapses the lie

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