My poetry

The Angel

I used to visit her,
An angel too pure for this world,
Her kind heart contrasting with all the negative,
sending you on your way with a blessing,

Her sweet voice rattles through my head,
A smile so infectious even through her pain,
Gorgeous in sickness and in health,
Knowing we were safer after receiving her kisses,

She was a wolf in sheep's clothing but not in a negative way,
Rather, an angel in woman's clothing,
But women must die even if they're angels,
Even if you don't get to say goodbye,
Even if she took away all of the light,

We are left in darkness without her,
I miss the joy on her face,
I hope that's an image in my mind that can never be erased,
I miss me and her playing games,

But I hope she is where she deserves to be,
Alongside her big tree of family,
Doing what she loves to do,
Wishing I could tell her "I love you."