a moment passed.  an emotion felt.  photographs aren’t memories.  memories aren’t experiences.  angels aren’t humans.  and she is not an angel.

she is young.  but she has lived.  through more.  than me.

we are travelling.  up north.  in an old white van.  my eyes are closed.   her head is slanted.  resting on me.  she whispers.  she sings.  that song to me.  the old church song.  about salvation.  

she is thinking.  about something.  I am feeling.  her thoughts.  and maybe.  for a moment.  we are one.

Love is never learned
Until it is lost
It's so hard
To forget pain
But it's even harder
To remember sweetness

We bear no scar
To show for happiness
We learn so little
From peace

sometimes you can't just walk it off.
sometimes you have to rebreak the bones
before they'll heal right. sometimes
you have to sew the cuts closed
and sometimes you pick the scabs over
and over again before the itching stops.
sometimes they become faint scar,
injury really only you can see. sometimes
the scars are so thick and dark that
they become the most noticeable part
of your body.

sometimes we heal.
sometimes we don't.
sometimes we say goodbye
over and over to the ghost
in the mirror, watching the
scars deepen with every
desperate breath.