welve & solavangint
the late mornings, sky filled with a gray layout, rain that dripped from the window sill unto their hand.
pen against old paper, funny that they're still words even if they aren't spoken. unspoken words written out on dusty wood, as they fall to the ground.
sometimes mistakes just can't be forgiven.
an apology, as the sun let their rays bless the land under it.
whilst the light captivated the crowd, with candles between their fingers and rain woven in their hair.
empty words, trying to bring back something that wasn't supposed to leave.
we're sorry.
