All Wings Tear

Quite a nice place it seems where whispers beg us to dream. Different are the sentiments the broken sing as they fly upon tired and fractured wings. Their grasp of sober judgement went where the last vice was spent. So must be the torment of a broken soul’s lament. So the tattered look to the…

The Echo That Brought Me Sight

In the beginning it began as an echo her sharp wit filled the halls within me, even when she said not a single word It spoke volumes, changing me completely. The gate of her stride was quaint I remember how she glided upon the floor. I can see it as if it were yesterday now…