Balcony Scene

I cried for the death of those tiny things and the mask you wore over the pain you poured into their last flight.
Smashed on the stones beneath your window. Symbols of the love you wanted to give but didn’t know how to.
Your innocence teased from your grasp before you knew what you had held. Trust given and then stolen over and over until you had none left save this.
I still weep silently over the grave of those tiny things. Even though your hands did not find them honestly they flew towards me on the best blooded wings you could make.
I watched them fall. I let them die. They didn’t slip from my hands. There was no desperate grip. I just watched them flutter once. And die. And then I looked up into your heart. And mine died too.

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