To my unborn…
I know an angel.
Her hair is black just like my own.
I sometimes dream of braiding it, weaving it through my ringed fingers.
Stop, I say, with a smile at myself, you'd get carried away…
A halo sits over her head and several rings of light tinge her skin near blue
And her lovely arms are covered with rings and rings of gold.
I sometimes get my hair caught in those rings and she laughs.
Goodness, what am I doing? Did I really say that out loud?
I see her angelic face now, an ugly expression as usual.
She's always crying, whining, grabbing for life.
She doesn't even know what air feels like.
She doesn't even know what I look like.
She doesn't even know my name.
I was crying yesterday because I could not have her, my nameless little goddess.
I was crying because the other one who made her, I did not love-never did.
The tears were like acid, searing their way into my cheeks blending unflatteringly
With my vulgar makeup.
Bitter laughter. This is unmerciful, dripping with my own chagrin but I want it here
That liquid fire of burning black pain of just thinking of her.
I sometimes dream of holding her, feeling her heartbeat under her beautiful silk.
I sometimes think that I can hear her singing in the songs I love most.
I often tell myself she never wanted this.
I often lie.
She's always screaming in my dreams, drowning in thick, slimy water
I cringe as I dream of her blood flooding the water and dripping, dripping from me.
That's when I scream.
The black in my eyes makes my tears black on this page…
I know an angel, but I couldn't have her.
I know an angel and she left.
I KNEW AN ANGEL…
She sparkles when I blink and her wings are prettier than anything I could ever give her.
I sometimes think…no…better not to say.
She took my heart with her, I think, so that I cannot bring her back.
I cannot love and know her nor can I feel her heartbeat.
I know an angel.