I never knew an angel until I met her.

Some may call it love, some may call it friends.

It’s both, yet different for us.

I can only dream of being with her.

Heaven was her home. She flew with the angels.

Her laugh was golden, bright, loud.

Her eyes glimmered brown in the sun and her smile was a guiding light.

She made me feel warm, like the world could be e

nding and I could just close my eyes and smile.

My other friend was born from honey and happiness. She knew of my love for the angel.

We all knew.

Honey seeped from her pores as she asked the angel if she loved me.

The angel couldn’t answer.

I knew the angel from her silence, and that was okay. Maybe the love that I knew, that I had, was only meant for me.

It was a lonely love, a seldomly warm love, a timid love; one I would have to hide for now.

I steer clear of the light, of the heavens, of where the angel resides, to ensure that my fragile heart doesn’t overflow with light.

She still decides to laugh in my ear, but now I just smile.

I won’t let her in any further than she needs to be.

Her eyes already trap me,

Locked.