they’re human, too

you worship them, put them on a
pedestal, like gods.
they’re ethereal, goddesses,
sunshine children,
whose only flaw is being too good
to you, for you, at everything.
and when they crumble,
become remotely vulnerable,
mortal, human,
the tears stream down your cheeks
and you thank them for being perfect
as if they weren’t already.

there’s really nothing that
can change your mind, is there?


Published by

❄︎ chloe ❄︎

write before you forget

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