This angel with broken wings cannot fly. She cannot sing those beautiful songs with the voice that you want to hear. Because she can't fly, her heart will die into the arms of her love. A boy came along and scraped the angel off the ground. He placed her in his hands, letting her feel the most gentle touch she had ever felt. He took the smallest pieces of Scotch tape he could find and mended her fragile wings with more care than she had ever experienced. In his hands, the angel stood and faced him. She noticed the clarity in his eyes as he brought her closer to his heart. The beat shook her, but she melted in him. The angel is part of his soul now. She is the love within him.

I password locked this for all of 10 minutes, then realizing that it was stupid. I have nothing to hide.

Where is my crowd to ignore me? It still exists, somewhere around these parts. Hurting is minimal because I don't think. But when the thoughts formulate in my head about the great things that we had, it will overwhelm me. I never see that I hurt myself until it is too late. I want to see all the good things, but when the bad prevail it all just pours out...like I'm tearing off my own skin and my blood starts falling from everywhere on me. I read old conversations (I save some. Bite me.). They inspire me. I'm off for four days. AZ will be promising, more to come later.

I LOVE YOU...