Do the angels miss their muse And resent me When I propose A lifetime of glorious surrender To your name? Do they send kisses of jealousy In our direction When I graze My hand atop yours Before the sunset? And do they feel wrath Like blind devils When we elope

We are all broken fragments inside, and we try to find the right fit in other people’s souls. Can you imagine picking up the fragments of another person, one who had willingly, or even worse unwillingly, threw the vase that held their life onto the ground, only to see