we think that angels are such wonderful and whole creatures
and as humans it is only in our nature to look up to them; to be as they are and achieve such perfection that we are mistaken for something
ethereal and otherworldly
with pale complexions and flowing golden hair, wings fluttering in the wind makeing us forget every single worry we have had,
every single sin we committed,
and every heart that we broke,
because we'd be perfect,
and when you obtain such beauty people overlook all your evils and
wrongs
as their pupils dilate and their hearts race
at the mere glimpse of you

but little do we know that in truth, angels don't have it easy,
they too, view their reflections as unclean and wrong
and spend all eternity, which they hold in between their feeble fingertips, scrubbing away at invisible dirt
until their wings are broken,
silk robes torn at the seams and covered in blood,
and the once-enchanting figures collapsed on the concrete,
drunk on rose-water and
half-hearted apologies

I guess in that aspect, you are just like an angel.