I was an angel once, caught in the grace of his love. Then I felt myself falling. He had ripped out my wings and taken away the grace of his love without so much as a goodbye. The blood from the unhealing wounds where my wings once were provide the ink that I use to pour out my soul on paper.
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the-crows-nest reblogged this from eclecticprism and added:
Francesco Romoli, Always Together
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