She has a million different faces.
She keeps them in a metal box
with rusting hinges and flakey paint.
She has built a fortress around her mind.
It towers high enough so that no one
could see over on either side, except
for the person standing on top.
She has laid a bulletproof blanket
over her heart. You could pound and
scream and beg her to let you in and she
won’t feel a thing.
Until she met you, she was a beautiful nightmare.
The day you came home for the very first
time, wearing a white onesie and clutching
a bottle in one hand and a thornless rose in the other, asleep.
Ever since then, her eyes have shone brighter
and her smile has grown sweeter.
You learned to crawl and she lost a face,
her fortress began to crumble,
her blanket began to rip.
You learned to speak and
she grew even purer.
But as you grew older,
you picked up every mask, brick, and thread
that she dropped.
You became the anchor and she was the float.
You were the yin and she was the yang.
Your minds were locked, you couldn’t
carry the weight of your conscience without
But as long as you remember
that Angela is your savior and
you are hers, you will never be able to drop that rose.
Because she is your mask,
and your bulletproof blanket.