I might be old and ugly now, but you started that way, Jack.
Our wings may be small, but then again, so are we.
I knew it wouldn't last, that the reality would come snaking back in, but for a moment I saw it, the futility of trying to mold love into an expected shape. The foolishness of whining when it didn't fit.
Sometimes the memories seemed too much and I couldn't understand how I'd stayed so calm when these things actually happened, but lost my breath in the shadowy remembrances.
Sometimes you wait for the right time and you run out of time altogether.
