I feel the texture of sour fruit on my tongue.
I see the bumblebee grazing rich petals,
so delicate they bounce from the weight of such a small set of wings.
I notice my pain fading.
I smell the freshly cut grass,
the cookies in the oven,
the vanilla from that stranger`s perfume.
I taste the anger from the words I spit,
and I adapt.
I learn to swallow them.
I hear the encouragement from people whom I do not know,
and I am deaf towards negativity.
And I realize that these things are not new.
I am not feeling or hearing for the first time.
I have not been blind or numb
or incapable of smelling up until this moment,
I have simply been stuck in winter for so long
that I forgot what spring was.
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