Angels




Disclaimer: I don't own Good Omens... altough no names are really mentioned in this.

I used the context from a poem I read in school to write this. Crowley thinking about Aziraphale, himself, and Earth. Slash, Crowley/Aziraphale. Please review! Exceptionally wierd... if you get it, cookies and pocky for you!

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The wierdest thing I've ever done? I loved an angel once.
It was dark, and he looked lonely, under the light of the moon,
A small, slender beauty caught up in a dream. I wanted him.
I still don't know why, but I smiled at him, he awoke from a daydream
And I fell in love.

After all, better off dead than giving in, not taking what you want.
He felt as light as air, warm, and soft in my arms as we kissed
in the evening dew, and part of the thrill was that I knew he would
cry and push me away in the morning. Life's tough.

Sometimes I hurt people that I don't need to. That's why I Fell.
I joy-ride cars to nowhere, break into houses, destroy lives.
I'm a mucky ghost, leave a mess, pinch a thing or two.
But watching myself open the door to a stranger's bedroom,
It feels strange. Mirrors. Aah.

It took some time, but eventually I had him, holding him close in my bed.
He looked beautiful there, but not the same. Fast asleep in my arms,
innocent, tired from the love we had shared. I got up, to the bathroom,
looked in the mirror. I hated the face I saw. Mirror. Punched it, again, again,
again. Then I stood with a cut hand, sick of this world.

Boredom. Mostly, I'm so bored I could eat myself. I hate this place, this life.
One time, I loved a woman and thought that I might love her forever. Then
she died. I even read Shakespeare once, Dickens, hated it, but the angel
was stangest.

You really don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?