Sunday, April 16

The third time

It was stained glass, this heart,
New colors, new patterns at first.
But then, broken once, and broken again.
Call it carelessness or blame it on the wind.
And as the I tried to pick up the pieces
And glue them back together again,
Storms of reality crushed them so fiercely,
That I couldn't even count them, so where do I begin?
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Letter to RAD - Take 3

 hello, it’s been a few days since we last texted, and i’ve been reflecting on what you said.  while i agreed with a few things, there were ...

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