And though they fell as ashes, their shadows drifted as leaves. She was the half-whispers born from half-thoughts, the half-breaths of dying half-hearts. Hoping fast that my arrow's flight is steady and true,
I need this, I need my arrow to find you, To pierce your skin and enter your undecided heart, Please, oh please, this can be our brand new start, Maybe it's not meant to be, Maybe my arrow will miss and strike a tree.
Warm Regards