She
She always let her heart fly too high...
She knew this because it always came
back singed and tattered
like neglected patchwork dresses buried
beneath the earth's surface
All the marks and burns and scratches
would accumulate upon the fabric of her heart
until it would have to be thrown away
from prolonged flying and sun kisses
She knew she shouldn't have been too carefree
but she couldn't help it
Maybe she's more human now for acknowledging it
She will let her heart fly again, watching it become a silhouette amongst the trees.
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