“Charlottesville”

In my spring, Charlottesville, I came to you, seventeen, trapped in a story of potential.

 

You smiled, knowing my same story before spun with hands drawn to applaud.

 

Deaf, I thought none came.

 

In my summer, Charlottesville,I returned to you, thirty, free from the ivory cage of others’ expectations, still lost of my own accord.

 

As you smiled again, I smile and clap for you.

 

It was always you. Happy Birthday!

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