|Image Source: Francesca Woodman|
I was a ruin when you met me. An ancient one at that. You fell in love with my cracks, the dust gathering around my soul. But you lost interest, you always do.
Like the time you craved perfection, when you knew from the beginning that I was not. In fact, I'm scared of shiny, new things, unlike you. Things that have no soul; unblemished, untainted.
My roots go deep. You prefer to admire me from far, yet, you will never make me home...
Linking this post to Magpie Tales - Mag 303.