i-killedaking:

angel. angel, they used to call you that once, with voices that play with echo like harp strings and faces roman sculptors wanted to mimic into art. do you remember?

DO YOU REMEMBER? the wings on your back, those hands of yours that prayed for god to love you as you did him.

DO YOU REMEMBER? watching humans from up there, the same view you see now when you come home and the sun plunges and the sea kisses the sky? 

DO YOU REMEMBER? when he pushed you to fall and you were choking on your love for him (god, why’d you do that, i love you so much - i didn’t betray you, i never would) and you felt pain for the first time and cold lick your wounds and embarrassment paint your face in flush. fallen angel, you are human now.

DO YOU REMEMBER? when you fell, no one was there to catch you and you were folding into yourself and heaven looked so far away and it was closed off like your heart. but the sky - did it always look like this? with the stars freckling the width of space and the moon not-quite-center and yet pulling everything together still (the second time you fall, but this time in love)? and humans, were they so expressive? when did they, when did they learn how to do that? or this, or this - making the scars where you were angel instead of human a figment of past. their fingers are knitted together with yours and they look at you in the eyes (can they see the fear? the secrets?) and they tell you, that it’s okay now, it’s already passed. you don’t know when you start to cry, but you know when arms start to bend over your shoulder blades and the broken tatter of wings and you believe that you are safe now.

DO YOU REMEMBER? you used to be an angel. they tell you now, you look like one. and you smile and laugh / (would you like to see my wings?)