My “flight” was late, and it never was. Punctual were the returns to Heaven after deeds were done. But her skin glowed under the moonlight,

My “flight” was late, and it never was. Punctual were the returns to Heaven after deeds were done. But her skin glowed under the moonlight,
Our children haunt our hearts with joy and agony. We bleed for them and kiss their wounds, wishing we could take their pain. Nothing surpasses our love for
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