You sit on my heart like an angry tick, sucking my attention, my thoughts, the minutes in my day. I put you there, I keep you there, I am too scared to pull you away, off of my beating, bleeding, broken heart. You are there, drinking my blood, tearing muscle and flesh apart, you are a part of me.
But today you are gone. That winged angel with sparkles in his eyes whispered to the wind, and the sky cried rain and now my heart is working again. You are gone, you sick, nasty tick, gone from my heart and when I remember you I don’t get sick anymore. My angel, my shimmering spirit, saved my soul this week, replaced my aching body with hope, my empty mouth with speech. Your miraculous whisper, oh angel, mended my broken wings, and when I close my eyes I climb higher into the crystal air with you, and I smile.
Now, my breath is back, and my words are for my angel. I whisper to him, I whisper to her, I whisper to anyone who will listen, because my breath is for my angel, and they are all my angels.
My broken heart still beats steadily each day, with each breath I take and with each beat of angel wings on my soul and in my lungs I live and I love, bigger and brighter and better.
Because of you, black tick. Because of my glistening angel with the winged words.
Because I am.
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