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Angels With Lonely Faces
I wrote these for the man I created and never saw, who once wore your face and your breath. Pacific and Pisces, he was beautiful and glowing and mortal and fragile, and I loved him with an innocence so fierce the very air became a sweet perfume of tender sacrifice.
You're not something I'm ready to say goodbye to yet.
The psychic told me, it was about you, us dancing in masks.
You kept me up until 5 am last night, practicing the right words.
But these are all only dreams of you.
The real you is nowhere to be found.
I said a prayer for you, that you could be a happy angel,
with or without me.
You own a hundred thousand different dreams,
all of them pretty, all of them nice,
And I'm in none of them.
I haunt only vague memory, filed away under "world"
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