dah

It is a fault I live with

for falling in love,

a fault I take to bed and

hold onto for dear life.

I still count the many time I

stayed up wishing on

dead stars and blank

skies,

I flew with wings

without repair

believing miracles could

still save me.

It is a fault I carry like heavy sighs and

anchors stuck in

thickdirtymud

and it doesn't matter because

we are now gone.

It doesn't matter now that

things have

shattered

like pieces of me

and pieces of you.