Sunday, September 9, 2007
Your wings needed mending. I sat there all night with sticky-tape and glue and a needle and thread and string and old newspapers. The sun came up but still, nothing worked. You needed to fix them yourself. You thanked me for trying and told me because I’d tried, you’d be willing to try too. You flew.
Written by Me at 2:03 AM
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I adore thiss..
You tried to do the same thing with my heart.
You made it worse.
Though you tried and failed I thank you for your time. However my flight was an illusion, I am still broken, battered and bruised.
That, that was beautiful. Thank you so very much.
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