I remember the first time I saw an angel. It was night, and I was wishing on a falling star. Those were the times that my heart still beat the rhythm of myths and dragons, of fairies and fairytales, and of angels and fallen stars. My heart was still so young and naïve then that I would believe I could fly and grow wings out of my back if someone would tell me I could do so.
He kissed my tears away while my eyes were closed and as I wished upon a falling star.
“Be brave,” he whispered. His lips grazed lightly on my forehead, and I heard the first stirrings of my innocent heart.
I caught a glimpse of him before he completely vanished into the thin air.
He has beautiful auburn hair.
Coal black wings.
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//old post again. Though I rewrite and correct most grammar errors I made in the past. 😁😅 Originally entitled, “Auburn hair.”