update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2021-12-30 15:40:04 -06:00
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@ -26,4 +26,16 @@ So whenever I get that awkward-shaped piece of grit between my mouth --- *every
Do they laugh, the sea foam, the ice, the angels? Do they laugh, the sea foam, the ice, the angels?
> I write in fire across the sky, a plummet to match your rise.
So then, my angel, I wish I could see your triumph.
I dream of it, that moment. I dream of falling to my knees, or being so badly broken that all I can do is lay there, unmoored, and look up to the way you rise above me.
I strive against angels as I strove against men, against the world, against the cruel vagaries of my former self and all his countless failings. Some have left me reeling, some have left me on my knees, head bowed until it almost --- almost! --- touches the ground, and I've had to spend a day, a week, a year catching my breath.
But never have I striven against angels. Never have I striven against you, my angel, and there is sweetness in defeat.
There is sweetness in defeat.
I wish I could see your triumph.