It's as if we had our wings clipped from the start. Or maybe we've always had the possibility of flight under our wings, but we've never believed it. Either way, your words have never been stuck to the ground. You've made sure that they catch the wind and tuck their landing gear. Luckily we think the same; my words can do nothing but lazily roll along to places they don't belong.

I could only hope that one day you'll face me and allow your words to float instead of fly for once. And maybe I'll tell you that your wings are beautiful and unscathed and you'll tell me that you like the feeling of concrete under your toes.