He is as hopeless as flying a kite made of clouds.
Now, some may say that that was impossible, improbable.
Some may even call it magical.
He did not see it that way.

In his eyes, he was as useful as a fraying rope.
Always on the edge of breaking,
Unstable.

His chest felt empty,
As if the dust left from his shattered heart had finally blown away.
The only thing there was his ribcage,
Trapping lungs that barely worked.

He believed he was hopeless.

To her, that was not the case.

She took his soul and painted grey and blue skies,
And used her own soul to glue him back together.

She flew her cloud kite proudly through the sky,
Doing tricks and running with it,
Smiling the whole time.

He is as hopeless as flying a kite made of clouds.

He is not hopeless.

The flames were extinguished after night storm, leaving only ashes and smells of smoke.

I was once happy
Love filled my warm heart
Now I'm lost and jaded
On the verge of falling apart

Why is it hard to smile?
No matter what I do
Cannot stop feeling down
Just can't find joy I knew

Life seemed easy once-upon-a-time
I've been longing for those years
Do not know when I stopped believing in magic
Somewhere along the way it changed to fear

Struggles are strong and neverending
Drowning in dark dismay
Reaching out a hand for help
Days are all black and grey

When I left this grey place eons ago
and the sun turned to water under my feet
the sky spit out seven horseshoes
hitting our heads in predictable defiance
and the sand turned to wind
the laughter to salt
when the world opened up
Was it really my fault?

The walls worn under my feet in the snow
who dares think badly back
the greyness left my dry blind eyes
and the haze was replaced with black
the sun sets on a cloudless skyless day
and rises on forgotten lands of warmth
trying to reach down and touch what it lost
too high up now
We’re all too dead.

A cold and shackled figure,
Hardly a husk of what once would be,
In the mirror it reflects a creature,
No human would ever care to see.

So distant from all other life,
The isolation has become a defense,
From the twisted world of the living,
So filled with overwhelming strife.

Standing solemn, eyes cast to the dirt,
Shackles secured firmly to the rock,
The birds surround his prison to mock,
The exiled being, and his surrender to suffering.

Alas, with frantic flapping they depart,
A gentle hand presses to the imprisoned heart,
The chains turn to sand and drop him free,
Eyes gazing up to his savior to be.

With stars for eyes, and the cosmos for hair,
How did his troubles turn her to care,
As she came down from her heavenly realm,
To bless such a meager, humble life?

He rose to his feet and without thought, mirrored her,
His hand, to her heart,
"This heart is yours, and yours to keep,
Hold it ever close and find love, limitless and deep."