He was a soul
unburnt by the fires he'd walked through
a quiet whisper hung from his lips every time he spoke
which was often
His words told of dream places
and far away nights
where hushed memories came and fell and crashed-
he would spend hours with staples and glue
There was nothing and everything grand about him
handfuls of broken things he kept close
I guess that's why I loved him
Imperfections, so perfect
He was a soul
just like many
full of too many things he wanted to do
and never enough time
His wings were just hollow bones
the crown on his head sometimes weighed too much
but he spoke of those blazes and ashes he'd kiss
and the whispers, well they became all he needed to teach me how to fly
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