Reaching back a bit for this one because I’ve been living in The Land of Revision as of late instead of writing new things. I’ll be glad to find some sort of an end to this project if only to say it’s done. In the meantime, enjoy this little chestnut from a few years back.
birds of a feather because birds of a feather who never quite come together are pulled apart from the part from which they want to be a part... something whole for once instead of a piece without peace that never quite finds that lease on life - first or second that they’ve heard so much about and without a doubt the hardest part is the softest spot because that’s where the dagger goes and it shows in the way that she curls away from life in general - the way she turns away from even the slightest compliment or passing glance that never quite passes without a chance to cut... or pierce that veil of stale air that surrounds her inside that armor shell