(Another one of my poems.. Depressing, yet again.. Bittersweet if you will.)

Have I confused you yet?

My angel?

Have I left you bruised and broken?

Until you had nothing left?

Am I your imperfection?

Am I really all that bad?

You make me feel so much more then this bitter sweetness.

You make me feel so calm, yet chaotic, like a demon in a cage.

But I suppose this is love?

You’re my paper.

And I’m your ink.

Together we’ll write a song.

Because you’re my broken angel, aren’t you?

Even if you’re six feet under.

With a R . I . P over your head like a halo.

And your face as pale as snow.

There’s not a way I could forget you.

My broken angel.