Clouds are scarce in the night sky. Light rain pitter patter on princess’s pink umbrella. Her boots strap cling against the leather. Crickets and other insects I rather not imagine sing in the night. Streetlights shine on the roads like dissolve rose gold.
Again my heart flutter. Again it shudders. I wonder if it was I. I wonder if it was something I lack. It was never my fault but because I believed so, I broke. Crumpled. Collapsed. I beat my mind. Shame my heart. But it was never I.
There’s a misunderstanding about my character. He would assume the genuinely conservative feelings I express where all too genuine.
Blind to the unfiltered weakness he sought. It is these feelings that curl when touched with the slightest tone.
They are my flaws.
What I say is real. What I do is true. It’s that unbelievable notion that will always be my undoing.