they say my art has abusive undertones,
lit up on the projector in class.
my mouth tied
like a bow
ashamed,
speechless
wishing it would stop bleeding
through my images.

i called you an angel,
Gabriel.
my angel.

i really believed
that if there was a god
he was instrumental in your sudden
appearance
that if anything was ever going to go right for me
it was you
that december
that christmas

and now i sweat you out
like the demon that you are
labor in the night,
screaming
waiting for my rebirth,
contracting.

i called you an angel,
Gabriel.
i told them
you were
an
angel