Bread
The woman's tears were beautiful; the rarest things tend to be. The less a fragile soul is seen, the more tender and sweet it seems.
His fury was incomparable; a level-headed rage. The words that slipped between his lips could expertly infuriate.
Together a heartwrenching sight of delicate and liberating pain. To be free of chains and chained by freedom is an eternal strain of being.
This poem is about:
Me