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An angel wrapped in gauze. Lying still on coarse, unmoved sheets. Soft, tender skin pulled tight over blood and bone by taut stitches pierced through the wreckage. My angel. Surrounded by colour, bright flowers that fill the room with a sweet odour as they die. I tell myself that I can't smell her too. The sun streaming in through the window is too hot, but she shivers. Now and then. Her eyes, so bright when she looks at me. I touch her hair, and whisper in her ear. An angel wrapped in gauze prays to a god she's never seen. I hold her hand, long after she's let go.
0
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Wreckage
An angel wrapped in gauze. Lying still on coarse, unmoved sheets. Soft, tender skin pulled tight over blood and bone by taut stitches pierced through the wreckage. My angel. Surrounded by colour, bright flowers that fill the room with a sweet odour as they die. I tell myself that I can't smell her too. The sun streaming in through the window is too hot, but she shivers. Now and then. Her eyes, so bright when she looks at me. I touch her hair, and whisper in her ear. An angel wrapped in gauze prays to a god she's never seen. I hold her hand, long after she's let go.
michael-solc
Written by
Canadian
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
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