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Field of the Lotus
Thirteen is old enough to notice what the pond keeps.
The lotus opens like it has nothing to prove.
Mud on the stem — not pretty, not apologizing.
A frog watches from the bank with the expression of someone who has seen this before and is not impressed.
I count the petals the way you count things you expect to lose.
Thirteen is old enough to know the bloom does not stay open for your benefit.
The lotus closes before anyone asks it to.
JV · Dark Heart Labs