Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

A hopeful mess.

We lay there in the fragments of our own undoing; in the depths of empathy; in unshakable forgiveness; in unfailing helplessness. The only gap between a tear-stained whisper. Everything had been torn down, ripped apart and burnt in some sporadic cataclysmic flame.

And we found ourselves in the midst of it.

And we awoke from this fiery haze with nothing but an unyielding clutch. A drowning in blankets and hands trying to save and bring life back to deflating lungs. Nothing to be said but a mountain of words both requited and known by both parties, yet still yearned to be spoken. A simple flick of wet irises were enough.

Enough to say that no one is leaving.
I’m staying right here.

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