On Broken Wings

She's imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help Her fingers continue to play through his fur, taking solace in the feeling of it, the way he breathes and moves beneath her hands. Amalia is lost in her own thoughts, her own reflections on who she is, what she has done, where she is going from here. Is it enough? Will it ever be? She feels Jigano's pain acutely, empathizes and understands, aches and breaks and yearns for him. When will it ever be enough, when will they ever be enough? Perhaps never, and that is their curse. But at least it is a burden they can bear together. "Yes," Amalia replies, smiling down at the fox. "We can be better together." It is a strange thing, to be offering him solace, when she has always seen him as all-knowing, composed, wise, while she in comparison is childish and rash. When did she become mature? When did she learn to see her emotions, to identify the flaws inherent to her soul? When did she grow up? a m a l i a She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine