masterpiece
“I’m sorry for my brokenness,” she sniffles as her emotions grew with every inhale.
I hear her pain, her sadness, and I reach out for her hand, “You have nothing to be sorry about, kochanie.”
She sighs, “How come?”
With a small smile, “You’re like a vase with a few cracks in it. But those cracks are filled with liquid gold and sealed with the ashes of faraway stars. You are a work of art, a masterpiece that no one can destroy.”
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