I slice my hands on your paper heart with every fold as I try to return you to who you once were. This lesson is one I should know cannot be mended with creases. Like the cuts on my fingertips masked with a bandage, a hidden tear still leaves a scar.
It’s never too late to fly
Unless you jump without pixie dust.
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The prompt was: Write a story themed with the first song you hear today. Hello, little songbird. I see you there, preening your bright yellow feathers in the predawn light. Are you having a good morning? Your merry tune reminds me that each day has something worth singing about. The flutter of your wings as […]
Once, I thought of being a writer When I started to write, I felt lighter I created a world My sanity unfurled But the days seem a little bit brighter I created a fictional place It was my very own magical space The people are awesome One has a pet possum It likes to wear […]