When I cry in my sleep.
I feel it.
This end-all be-all in the blink of an eye.
It terrifies me.
It impregnates me.
It freezes me and sets me on fire all at once.
And I wouldn't be human… ..
No, I wouldn't be human.. …
Without a decent ounce of it.
Every night to keep the angels at bay.
And a promise—true, untrue, or sufficient—to touch their golden-glowing wings.
In the morning.