Lately,
I can't stop thinking about angels.
Where do i look first?
i search the closet of my old bedroom,
it smells like Bel Air in the summertime,
i come wearing frilly dresses,
dancing with gorgeous men thrice my age.
If i want Icarus,
i am told i will find Him at
the closest part of the sun that is not the sun itself
and yet,
i cannot name of any astronauts who have seen heaven.
oh, Angel.
My feather winged love.
My heart is weeping from the magic of it all,
and i
thinking You.