I sung to her at night. Every night. The same song. And she would do this thing, when she would close her eyes. And it felt like she was connecting with the music. That she was depicting every note, every sound, every word. I would watch her, watch her like she was my saving grace, like my angel. And at the chorus, the corners of her thin lips would pull up, and a small grin would form on her face. Her eyes would crinkle, and my heart would drop.
Runaway Bunny
loneliness, love-hurts, sadness