when you fall in love with an angel, you must understand that there are things you will never understand.

- when you first go to run your hands through her hair, her halo will slice your palm. and it will hurt like hell. she will mend it with the touch of one golden finger, and leave so abruptly that she is gone almost before you even blink. the thing you will see is her at the doorway. terrified eyes, blood stained hair.

(later, she will tell you that she never realized how breakable humans could be. when she explains what it takes to make an angel bleed, you begin to understand )

- ask her about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away. ask her whether or not the universe looks like a blooming garden. never ask about lucifer - she will become a soldier before your eyes.

and not, do not, donot, ask about god.

do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee mothers.

(do not infer about a war you know nothing of)

- in a science class you are taking simply for extra credit, your teacher will be talking about quantum physics. he will explain galaxies and refer to stars as "celestial bodies," but you won't be listening. suddenly you will only be able to think of the way her mouth curls at the sides, of the way her golden skin glows, of all the puckered scars that crisscross her torso, of the graceful arch on the bottom of her foot. celestial bodies are certainly on your mind but they are so much more than gas and light and heat and touch and --- oh heavens ---

when the teacher asks if you are alright, you will flush an even deeper red. supernova.

(at times it is lovely to be in love with an angel. but at other times, it is not)
- beware when you fight, it is like the world is ending. her anger conjures a thunderstorm, and soon the entire country is three inches deep in water. you shatter a picture frame. a bolt of lightning catches the house across the street on fire. you are screaming at the top of your lungs – something about duty, something about god – and there is a crash of thunder that shakes the foundations. the weathermen talk about the storm for days. you flinch and change the channel.

(no matter how right she is, she will always let you win)

- there are times when she won't visit for months on end, and when she finally comes back to you, she is not herself. there are new scars across her chest, and she does not speak. she sits with you in her arms for hours, her nose buried in your hair, and her arms squeezed tight, so tight. she does not cry. you do not cry.

you do(not) cry.

(but you do remember the miles and miles of white scarring. you wonder if angels are as immortal and unbreakable as they think)

Everyday I walk the gauntlet
down the street full of despair
No one looking up at me
But, they know that I am there
"Mister, can you spare some change"
"I need a coffee and a meal"
They all just sit there begging
I can't know how they feel

Cardboard signs expressing life
Shadows and wratihs along the walk
I try to block out what they say
I don't want to hear them talk
Some are dressed in paupers rags
While others in name brands
Each day I walk the gauntlet
Past their pleas and outstretched hands

"Mister, can you spare some cash?"
"A coffee would be nice"
I donot make eye contact
I choose not to roll the dice
I can't look down and notice them
I can not help them all
I can only walk and wonder
Just how far did they fall?

"Mister, can you help me out?"
""I'm only two bucks short"
Some sit here from five to nine
Then they choose a different port
Last week a voice reached out to me
From a shadow no one cast
I recognized the voice, it was
A person from my past

"Mister, can you spare a bit?"
"I'm just down on my luck"
I stopped and stood and waited as
My very breath was ******
I knew this voice, it's owner was
A man I worked with once
Many, many years ago
Back at old A.F.T. Hunts

I turned and looked upon him
This old man on the side
His eyes looked clear on through me
He wouldn't know me if he tried
He said "I'm only waiting for"
"something else to come along"
"I don't feel right, sitting, begging"
"In a few days I will  be gone"

I reached inside and pulled a bill
five dollars I would give
I knew when he had everything
Now, this is how he lives
I thought before I gave it him
This could easily be me
I knew exactly who'd he'd been
But, he still did not seem to see

I told him to take care and then
I moved on down the street
Not knowing where'd he go to next
If he'd go somewhere warm to eat
I only knew it wasn't far
to reach the gauntlet of despair
But I think from then, I'd never act
As though they were not there.

I donot know why some people like me.
I donot know why some people donot like me.
I donot know why  I like some people and not others.