To my unborn…

Sparkling Angel

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.


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.

She's dead.