The war is over or is it? Do I know you as a dirty innocent thing yet? A discarded soft child forgotten by your god? A picture frame made of wilted flowers?
A dragonfly can fly forwards, backwards, up, down, and hover... The dragonfly knows what we learn: the path will never be linear. It isn’t supposed to be.
I was wearied from waiting for you to come around. And tired... of allowing what you said to control the course of my days, my weeks, my months and years.
Without you, we never would’ve known what beauty there is in 'broken', or what 'broken' is to beauty. How one can only exist without the other for so long.