It's broken. Torn. Beat up. Barely beating. It's been stitched up. Mended. Fixed. Then rebroken. Retorn. Beat up again. It's now bruised. No longer red and pink. It's black and blue. It's failing. Giving up. No. It gave up. My heart. But then. I found him. Well. No. Actually. He found me.
  • Stanwood, Washington
  • JoinedMarch 26, 2014

Stories by Cassidy Lynn
  • 5 Published Stories