when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

It's all in the eyes
as I watch you disguise
the pain that you’ve left at home
as you drone out the rest of the world

in a catatonic state
blank from emotion as of late
screaming out without a noise
while you sit in your chair with poise

the perfect illusion

Expecting you to be there
Expecting you to care
Is exhausting
As I get lost in the echo
Of your hollow words
Whispers of emotions
You didn’t feel

Telling others of first sight
and first touch
but truly not recalling them

I became the victim
Of your “three word lie”
As I feel my heart die
knowing you can never
knowing you will never

Feel the way I felt
when I looked into your eyes

See you're making new friends
Slowly forgetting about me

The distance
The tension
Less conversations

I just want the day to come
When we act like strangers

We won't remember
The days we were together

Your standing in the shadows
I just want to be in the sunlight

We can't hold hands
Oceans apart

I can feel
You slipping away
From my heart

when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will never understand.

- when you first go to run your hands through her hair, her halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt like hell. she will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and leave so abruptly that she is gone almost before you even blink. the thing you will see is her at the doorway. terrified eyes, blood stained hair.

(later, she will tell you that she never realized how breakable humans could be. when she explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you begin to understand )

- ask her about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away. ask her whether or not the universe looks like a blooming garden. never ask about lucifer - she will become a soldier before your eyes.

and not, do not, donot, ask about god.

do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee mothers.

(do not infer about a war you know nothing of)

- in a science class you are taking simply for extra credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. he will explain galaxies and refer to stars as "celestial bodies," but you won't be listening. suddenly you will only be able to think of the way her mouth curls at the sides, of the way her golden skin glows, of all the puckered scars that crisscross her torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of her foot. celestial bodies are certainly on your mind but they are so much more than gas and light and heat and touch and --- oh heavens ---

when the teacher asks if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. supernova.

(at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but at other times, it is not)
- beware when you fight, it is like the world is ending. her anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire country is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightning catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs – something about duty, something about god – and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the foundations. the weathermen talk about the storm for days. you flinch and change the channel.

(no matter how right she is, she will always let you win)

- there are times when she won't visit for months on end, and when she finally comes back to you, she is not herself. there are new scars across her chest, and she does not speak. she sits with you in her arms for hours, her nose buried in your hair, and her arms squeezed tight, so tight. she does not cry. you do not cry.

you do(not) cry.

(but you do remember the miles and miles of white scarring. you wonder if angels are as immortal and unbreakable as they think)

I have remembered loving you
In many different ways.

I remembered loving you
As a blade, once.
Those memories made me bleed
They burned, they ached,
No matter how many bandaids I used
They refused to stop.

I remembered loving you
As a bruise.
First, it hurt vaguely all the time
Everyone could see the deep purple
Of my pain.
But gradually, it faded
until it only hurt when I put pressure on it,
Or when someone accidentally bumped it.

Now, I remember loving you
As a thick, deep scar.
I can trace my fingers over it
And it no longer hurts.
I can remember what it felt like,
To love you,
To lose you,
But the blade’s bite is behind me.

It’s taken me so long,
To see my scars as proof
Of healing instead of harm.
But I’m stronger now.

Goodbye, old flame.

I no longer miss you.