I pass over their heads
faces upturned, hopeful
I grace them not with the knowledge that I have seen them
Though I float among clouds
my heart is too heavy
to heavy to choose to reveal so much rejection
and far to heavy to wait and watch their reaction
I fear that I’m contributing to cynicism
that I might lead these men to believe
in callous angels
but no man should be so weak as to crumble beneath the weight of one
“how are you doing beautiful”
never answered