If its yours, set it free.

 Fluttering within my clasped hands, I fear her wings may break; Wings of violet and ruby, a beauty he did make. A moment more I steal to gase upon her delicate splendor, soaking in her features so that I will remember. With trepidation I release my hold and watch her fly away, her resolve to leave I could not sway. Open hands, still standing in the spot I let her go. Will she return? The answer I do not know.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741