After living so long content to just be a woman, a mother a girl.

And then her life was complete, her children adults, and all she was made for had come out whole and good.

She stood looking out at the sea, the tears like rivers over her cheeks followed the same path as the rivers of red warm blood running down her back, the deep wounds where the wings had been, the same pair that had tried so hard to stay so many times before, and every time she was crushed she came here and they ripped from her back and floated away on the waves as she stood again and cried for what could have been.

That was a while ago now and one day she got a written poem and the wounds again begain to heal, the buds of her wings began to grow so very slowly, he gently touched her heart and she glowed, he handed her his soul and she placed it beside her soul and he joined them with a silver thread, this thread she tested many times since and so far it has held, she smiled as she changed this morning for the wings have almost grown strong enough to help her fly, strong enough to believe in her own magic, she is his rose and she will always fly to him, as long as he keeps her soul safe her wings will be safe and never bleed again.