Long nights upon long nights, adding up to be her very own haunting calendar.
Abandoned by everyone she loved, she was forced to make the decisions for herself. No home, no money, no family, no friends.
Her body was a sacred temple, worshiped by many. . . . . .
. . . . . .many of the wrong kind.
She helped all she could, gave all of herself every time, to everyone who needed a helping hand.
She dreamt every night for a man of intelligence and kindness, wit and charm; a man who could sweep her off her feet and carry her far far away from the hell she lived in.
She was an angel.
Broken and tired: tired of the life that had beaten her down and scarred her permanently.
She begged for her wings, tried so very hard to find them, but they were nowhere in sight. She was to be a fallen angel.
And so it was.
She had enough of this world, and so she got up and dusted herself off, running to a better future; she was running to find the best version of herself,
because she knew it was out there somewhere.
She couldn’t rely on the Prince Charming she knew in her dreams.
She had to be her own.
The Broken Angel was fixing herself. . . . . .
. . . . . .and finding her wings.