Hello, I’ve returned!
There isn’t much to say about this poem. I spent a long time on it, and I think talking about it would take away its integrity.
Find your own meaning in it. ❤
When Angels Fall, They Burn
I close my eyes, allowing the air
to slip past my body and
gather around me.
I wait for it to step in,
to catch me as I fall,
fall towards the earth,
fall from where I stand.
Suicidal resolve. An hourglass losing sand.
Folded wings are on fire.
I don’t reach out. My hands,
knowing there’s nothing to hold on to,
stay still, grasping at nothing,
acting as if they could catch this love filled air.
They close to fists, lifeless at my
sides as the seconds slip past.
This fall seems to drag on, though
I know time has sped up at my
heart’s request. It beats quickly,
counting moments in pounding beats.
letting time move as it should:
the same rate it always had.
My skin burns as the wind tears at the fabric
of my white dress. Feathers fall from my wings.
But everything … is turning … grey.
I’m reminded of an hourglass.
my body would be one simple grain
in the stream of falling sands, but my story,
my fall, would be replayed
at one simple turn of the hourglass.
I know the air will not catch me—
air can’t support you when the fall
makes you lose your breath.
This is not where I expected to end—
love and death should not be the same thing,
they should not lead to each other.
The air will not catch me, I will fall
to the ground from where I once stood,
yet in the end, it will be my fall,
not my end, that will mean the most.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. ❤
Have a lovely day!