The Angel

I wrote this in my freshman year in the library at college break. Funny it’s still around. I am a senior now and I hope this man is perfectly happy and safe from danger….

He has galaxies for eyes I wish to melt in and raven black hair. He can find things easily and he sees through people’s bullshit. His favorite shape is a pentacle also known as a pentagram but he can’t tell the difference but he can tell the difference and correlation between things for me. He has fair skin and loves any kind of music and he is beautiful to everyone and loves writing poetry. He has a good voice because he can sing like The Doors. Although he acts and looks sexual he is ardent and loves beautiful things like art and music unlike other people. He likes the black sheep and the punks. The pentacle is his protection and he is also very smart. As smart as I. He tends to think I’m innocent. But in fact I’m actually not. He thinks that I am sick while I think he’s actually hot. All the while my sickness stirring his enemy has blue and green eyes lurking on his back not in his face the stars protect him and heaven lying down forbids his face he even makes all four horsemen race. He doesn’t like people talking to me and wish they’d get out of my face. He knows exactly what I’m thinking and although he loves the human race. He will not tolerate people getting on my case.