Bones mended, and my wings have grown.
I learned to nurse this fracture and call it my own.
Scissors to the chords wrapped around my heart.
I'm cutting myself loose to begin again at the start.
No more clever poetic rhymes,
or lyrics of songs which hint at better times.
My lungs have forgotten how to take in air.
The cluttered memories are too much for me to bare.
I left trails of red ribbons as markers connecting milestones.