Silhouette...

He watched her...He watched her as she walked into the sunset,  her thin frame tracing a distinct silhouette against the evening sky...
Her hair blowing behind her, strewn by the playful gust of wind. The sun shining just above her head, crowning her pure, selfless avatar with a fiery halo.
He wondered, if only he had a pair of wings that he could lend her, she could perhaps even look exactly the angel that she was.

As he let his eyes take in the beauty of her being, that he had fallen in love with a thousand times before, the same thought couldn’t escape him that had recurred so many times now. The thought that in her walking away from him so , was she leaving him or just leading the way... was she leaving him hollow, or if she wished him to follow...

And there he sat on the sand, waiting for her to stop mid step and look over her shoulder, a look of encouragement that would dissolve all his fears. But an eternity passed and yet that sun never set... nor did he see the silhouette halt. Neither did the halo excuse itself form burning his eyes a hurtful red... nor did he care to lower his gaze...

Stitches...

He was no angel and he never asserted to be one. He also knew he never could turn into one till the day he died. All he could be was himself. His being made up of small pieces of scarred imperfections stitched together into a whole with threads of good intentions. He could be bad in ways that allure and good in ways that comfort, but that would make him too perfect to resist and detrimental to his wishes of saving people the tribulations of his association. And so he persists and perseveres.