He - the misspelled spell that turned into curse for other hearts.
He - broken bones, yellow skin, dark circles surrounding the eyes and a smile that can barely be noticed on his mean lips; he used to be young.
He - the saviour of Juliette and the one butcher that sliced Romeo's throat on his way to Verona.
He - a secret well kept from all Gods of the Old World, an elixir of a lost nation, hidden under the roots of a wild willow.
He - the carpenter with magic hands, carving and carving into wooden hearts, putting magic into music boxes; he used to live in a whale.
He - a mocking fire burning brighter as years went by him.
He - a traveller.
He - the kid that hugs a kitten to death, crying for the moon and asking for forgiveness when the numb body hangs expressionless and soulless, bending ungainly over his skinny arm; he used to have a soul.
He - it's all broken now: time, memory, smiles and tears, they're all holy spirits, ghosts in old castles made of broken dream.
He - the lost ability of one to put down on paper the moon and sun, bring all together in a circle of immortality.
He - the dance of butterflies, the winter touching the spring; he used to be lost.
He - a still green leaf during mid-autumn.
He - a child with blue eyes and curly hair, darkness and just one light illuminating the whole world; he used to be shallow.
He - "Where do I go?"
He - Christmas all passed and carols can still be heard during midsummer inside his chest, echoing in his rib cage.
He said he was fine. And he lived happily-ever-after, two heartbeats echoing inside of him forever and always...
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