you're a fallen star, forced o u t of heaven,
for shining too bright.
angels don't feel,
and envy is a s i n.
you blessed my brow and confessed love to my chest,
with all the Grace of heaven,
with nothing but a slow, measured blink,
of stained-glass eyes.
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Share your thoughts; they're bright lines of light in the dust and dark. Be kind to my mistakes and remember that my words are free and not meant to offend, so yours shouldn't be either.