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Moths

February 28, 2015

Words cluster about my head like moths most days, teasing me with wing-beaten currents, but they dart away when I reach out to catch them.

I would like to turn off the light that draws them to me, just dim it long enough for them to move elsewhere. It is exhausting, the constant chasing of small, winged beasts, the fear that even if I do catch one, the brush of my fingers against their hair-like scales will bring it down, take away its essence. Is it worth catching one only to learn it will never fly again?

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