my angel

you never knew all of me
not truly
and for a while
i thought that was something i needed

i called it honesty
i called it selfishness
i called it protecting you
when really
i was only protecting the person
i had learned to become

now i think
the cruelest thing i ever did
was mistake being known
for being exposed

because you were my angel,
not because you saved me
but because beside you
i wanted to save the parts of myself i had already given up on

i couldn’t stop smiling
no matter what you said
no matter what you did
i just couldn’t stop

i remember taking pictures of you,
waiting for you to complain
about how badly i’d taken them
i’d take 1000 more terrible photos just to hear it all on repeat

there’s such familiarity weaved throughout you,
your hair, your smile, your radiance
i knew you could see my eyes fawn to you,
but that time nothing could stop me

if you read this, or if you don’t
finally releasing has given me my first step
into truly being myself once again,
writing all about you

your little hands wrapped around mine
pressed up against those cold cheeks
i love that it warms you,
as your presence warms me

there’s nothing i want more,
take that second glance at me,
look me in my eyes,
i see you brighter than ever,
knowing i’d rather go blind than look away,
i let your presence consume me once more.

maybe in the next,
i’m plating your breakfast,
i’m sorting your clothes while you study,
i’m cleaning up as you were running late,
i’m laying on your bed editing your music videos i recorded

maybe in the next, i’m everything i promised
promised to you, from me, my angel
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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October 1, 2026 at 6:10 PM
A tender, unguarded free-verse confession that lets its emotional movement unfold naturally—from self-protection and regret into remembrance, devotion, and the imagined ordinary intimacies of another life. The recurring “my angel” carries real warmth without becoming overstated, while details like the terrible photographs, cold cheeks, breakfast, clothes, and music-video editing make the love feel lived-in and deeply personal. The loose, breath-shaped lines suit the speaker’s gradual release: this is less a declaration than a heart finally allowing itself to be known.
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