It started simply, that is one thing I can say for certain. Almost like the first breeze to prelude the storm, a refreshing blast of feeling, even when on occasion it chilled the blood for a brief instance. But as the wind began to return more often and in more fierce blows the chill spread deeper until it turned once warm, welcoming hearts cold and bitter.
The sky doesn't hate the ground, nor the ground the sky; yet under pressure winds still transform storms into tornados that leave devastation in place of bread crumbs. There are no apologies spoken from the earth to the sky yet still the sky brings life to the ground and the grounds still returns what is due to the sky.
I love you. Spoken in silence.
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