put the record on hold,
as i pause to think of you.
finding my fragile self, caught
between the string of words,
melting slowly into the warmth of your embrace.
physicals, tangibles, no longer add up
and emotions are scarcely proportional.
i count my blessings,
then make little wishes on my 11:11.
Ange, glued and doubly stitched,
made to fit into their whims and fancies.
hold me once more,
in this intangible embrace,
fall into place,
up, up, and
away.
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