Like a wounded bird, she found her way to him. Nurturing and caring, he gave all he had to give. He prayed to a god that she would live. But she would never be his.
He mended her wings; and taught her to sing. He showed her the joys that life could bring. He would give his soul to be her everything. But she would never be his.
Slowly the wounds began to heal, time seemed to stop in its spinning wheel. She learned to laugh, to love and to feel. But she would never be his.
The time had come to let her go. On her own, more courageous than before. Would she fly, he didn't know. But she would never be his.
And so that morning he bid her farewell. She turned and kissed him, as his heart fell. One final touch was a torturous hell. For she could never be his.