Flames.

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We all have angels.  They come in forms.  Beings, moments, things, persons.  Angels.

Today my angel was there when I awoke.  He sat there as I purged thought and consciousness.  He listened.  He handed me tissues.  He forced a hug.  He was there hours later as I purged material possessions.  He held bags open as I threw that which no longer held meaning.  He.  Was.  There.

As I sat there releasing moments of my life encapsulated in material objects he kept reminding me that I was beautiful.  It was impossible to hear.  I have been perseverating as of late on who I am.  I have no sense of the now.  I want the version of me back that was before him.  I keep digressing.


Fuck.


I want  to offer something good.  I wish I was deserving.  I can only add NorthFace to the fire and hope the flames burn him away.