Folded amidst the air like a
Dying ember of flame.
The wings of a great bird or a
Angel that went, not came.
It's ink upon the paper now
And cannot be erased.
A love not meant to be, it is,
A feeling not embraced.
Dying ember of flame.
The wings of a great bird or a
Angel that went, not came.
It's ink upon the paper now
And cannot be erased.
A love not meant to be, it is,
A feeling not embraced.
jetta.ck
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