Angel Wings
This is a response to the book Red is for Remembrance and a horrible news story from my area.
Hold the angel wings between your fingers and pull the gossamer fibers apart. Destroy beauty because it’s painful to think life can be that way when you’re so devastated. When all you can do is cry until no more tears will come, and bury your red blotched face into your soggy lavender scented pillow. There is too much tragedy to hold inside for much longer, but you fight it with everything you have, because you’re the strong one who isn’t supposed to feel any pain. They say you’re an angel because of the way you hold them all together, but they can’t see the way you’re dead inside. You took your own gossamer angel wings and ripped them to shreds, because you thought you were the one who should have died.
