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Claudia

She's happy can you tell?
Her eyes sparkle like the fireflies we used to chase.
My sister, my little one, my friend.
Still reminds me of bottled milk, crushed rusk and chubby cheeks. And matching frilly dresses.
Even though, now she wears crop tops and ripped jeans.
Now she drinks coffee in the morning, and eats little.
Her eyeliner is perfect.
Now she chases dreams, and love, and grown up things.
Simple, subtle and settling. No one has ever looked more beautiful.
If everything disappears from this world, let her smile be last.
How I fear that it may fade.
I've prayed so much for this smile to exist, back when I believed in God.
In front of her big brown eyes, I still do. I'd do anything not to see her cry again (like that time I told her Santa wasn't real).
I'll even allow myself believe for a moment, in something, anything she finds hope in.
I haven't seen her in more than two years. The memory of her soft hugs is starting to fade and crushed rusk doesn't actually taste that good with milk.
We'll never wear matching frilly dresses again. I hope.
I am still chasing fireflies.
Soon we'll meet again, in a small village in the south and we will walk arm in arm down the cobbled streets. We will sit by the church and we will talk about boys, and mothers, and other stressful things.

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