On Falling in Love with and Angel

[HP is a potato]

Foreword: So I was surfing through Pinterest about a month ago and I found a poem by user qhotes on tumblr, and it sort of stuck in my head. Last night I remembered it and looked her up to see if she had anything more on it, and I found a few more, but not enough to satisfy my need for more of this poem. I made all of my friends read it (and one of them decided to turn it into a Supernatural fic), and then, as a last resort, I decided to write my own.
original work I strongly suggest that you read this first. Might not be suitable for younger people, idk.
Anyways, here's mine:

i. you’re walking to work and you feel his eyes on you. you don’t know they’re his, but you feel it. it’s fire on your skin, and it feels cold on your spine. your eyes meet and you see flame and blood and love.

ii. he’s strange and wonderful. he doesn’t fit in, like a book that’s slightly taller than the rest on the shelf. you think he doesn’t understand mortals, and he doesn’t understand you. you think it’s because he’s not from earth, but he’s seen more of earth than you ever will. he’s old. older than you can imagine, and he understands what you are and how you work. he just doesn’t know what it’s like to be mortal, just as you don’t know what it’s like to be immortal. you don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of not dying, because angels have it so much worse.

iii. you ask him out for coffee, and you wonder if he even eats. he does, of course. he accepts, and you can’t stop smiling. the way the steam rises from his cup and glows around his face. the way the rest of the cafe falls silent when he speaks, voice low and rumbling, making you flush. the way his eyes don’t look at you, but inside of you, and you feel bare in front of him, but completely comfortable.

iv. you haven’t seen him in months, and you start to wonder if you’ll ever see him again. you wonder if he’s ever coming back. you wonder if maybe you imagined him. stirring your coffee and sighing into the steam, you feel the warmth of the sun through your window, and it’s his arms wrapping around you. you close your eyes and wish he was there; maybe you can wish him into existence. but when you open your eyes he’s still gone.

v. you can touch his hands, and his face, and his hair, and his skin, but do not linger on his scars. his eyes will move a thousand miles away, and he will become distant. he’ll be gone in an instant, and you’ll wonder what you’ve done. it will kill you slowly until he returns, and he’s the same as he was. nothing is different. do not ask about it.

vi. loving him will be dangerous, and he’ll tell you this. you will tell yourself this. you’ll know, but you won’t understand. you’re too stubborn to stop, and he’s too addicted to leave. the two of you will stay together until the end, and you cannot deviate. you cannot. this will attract attention from things you won’t understand. he’ll do his best to explain, but all he can do is protect you, and you have to follow him.

vii. the wind is howling outside, and the rain is pouring on your roof. you need to go out, but you don’t want the rain to stop. even though he’s not here, you know it’s him. he’s reminding you that he’s not far, and that he’ll be back. it hurts, but you smile.


So yeah that's kind of sappy for me, and I kind of wanted to scream a lot when I was done. I just reread it and it seems worse than it did last night but whatever

[Phina Wolf]

Aww. That is so sweet!

[HP is a potato]

Thank you, bb ^.^