Do you hear that? Hear the heavens wishing they weren’t so far away from you? Angels fall all the time, you were no different.

I can see the stars even from trillions of light years in the past, or is it the future? Either way, wouldn’t you want to be one too if you knew how empty their orbits really are? I wonder what they do with all the silence.

I still let the universe decide things for me. If the floodlights outside my window turn off in the next two minutes I’ll go to bed. If they don’t, I’ll lie awake in tranquillized agony. The sleepy self-deprecation I catch myself whispering into the thick darkness doesn’t seem so rigid at two in the morning. It’s….soft.

If someday the concrete of the road decides I’m no angel, I still hope I can hear the heavens wishing they could ******* pain on silvery tongues.