Leaves dance on twisted arms, swaying on the breeze as though choreographed by unseen hands. Even the faithless could find themselves converts, by the smell of dampened earth and its blossoming rose.
You broke me into pieces, but I took those shards and built a mosaic. I’m stronger for the fall, and more beautiful than I could have ever been with you.
I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.
