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to all the broken men
When I close my eyes, the angels come down to my rescue. I see them now. They speak to me in my sleep. In my dreams I metamorphasize into an infinite light that shines down on this planet, drying the blood of broken-hearted men, collecting all of their unshed tears. I dream that my arms are wide enough to hold them as they stumble in the darkness, attempting to assert themselves in the void. I dream that my heart is the ozone that covers this planet and my love is the air that they breathe.
Filed under:
france, paris, poetry © 2024
(there are other sarah rose’s, but this is the new one)