So elegant.
I could’ve done her, he says.
So tall.
I could’ve nailed her.
So frail.
My one regret.
Angel of the populace,
brilliant in blue, beloved
in white, in miles of tulle
and satin, demure
as an ancient daemon.
On a long-ago night,
someone named a star
after you, after me.
When he told me, I laughed,
slicing his pain with the shards
of my cold-splintered heart.
The heart he froze,
he shattered. And you,
when you left without saying
goodbye.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Pixabay
Interesting note: In ancient Greece, daemons “…were
considered divine powers, fates, guardian spirits, or
angels, who gave guidance and protection, and scarcely
figure in Ancient Greek art or mythology, their presence
was felt, rather than seen. “ (Greeker than the Greeks)
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