6.29
well the wind blows again. this time it is the warm summer breeze. i feel it lift me. I cannot i will not do this yet again. i will not sever myself from this place. yet another heart. another heart with strings left to hang from mine as i cut them. i must cut them when i fly away. my heart never comes with me at first and when it does it just gets ripped to shreds on the flight. no hearts ever come with me. yet the wind beats at my back and whips around my face. i must leave. eventually i will leave. gypsy girl. will promise you carefully so as not to upset the strings that you have attached to my heart when i leave. if you came with me on the wind. if you flew with me, they would never have to be cut, the strings from my heart to yours.