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Hopeless love Stories

hopeless love

Holding Perfect

Burns bright, burns fast, right? So let's burn. (A poetic blast from my distant past.)

Perfect’s rare. I’ve seen it. I’ve held it in my arms. A vision; a dream; An angel.Mine was no ordinary angel: She had no wings, she did not glow with the glory of God and her singing was not much to speak of. In short, she was wonderful. My angel was you...