whenever someone tells me angels have wings
i laugh because they don’t know a damn thing
crosses on wrists written in dark pink
missionary doesn’t show you god the way that you think
and they tell me i’m something of a headcase
or such a waste of a nice, pretty face
like i was ever able to let go
like i didn’t make a noose out of his halo
tell me your sins lying inside the dark
tell me how stained glass left a burn mark
i’ll never again be golden
but it was worth it just to hold him…
-wolfcalls
night whispers 