Dear Angel

Dear Angel,
I was fascinated by the boy in the glass box.
He walked as I assume a mummy would,
with his arms crossed over his chest,
His fingers clutching blooming memories.
When I asked him about it,
He told me that he was practicing,
Waiting.
Then he handed me a white petal,
Memories shedding themselves from stems.
He claimed that he was death,
I told him that he was very much alive.
I watched how much effort it took for him to shake his head,
skin pulling tight against his neck,
Trying to prove me wrong.
“On the cusp of awake and asleep,
I’m more dead than alive.”
I reach out.
Cold,
Weak
Hands clung to mine.
“On the cusp of awake and asleep
is where people dream”,
I told him.
I pulled him out of the coffin,
Glass shattered around us.
We danced in the light it cast.
Another white petal fell into my possession.
He let me touch his hair,
It fell out in clumps in my hand.
He let me touch his lips,
He tasted like lost memories.
A white petal is left pasted to my lower lip.
Eventually,
He let me hold his heart.
Wires were strung between his heart and his body,
Color coded by hours he had left.
He detached the heart and handed it to me.
I pocketed his love.
I pocketed his fear.
I pocketed his heat.
I pocketed a white petal.
He told me once that he thought that he was a mummy,
But he was an angel.
A white petal fell to the floor between us.
I think this is the last thing you remember.
Dear angel,
This was when I learned that you were human.
This time,
They built the coffin out of wood
So that you couldn't escape.
They dressed it in white petals.
They sang songs of being thankful that you lived so long,
Lies bouncing off the stain glass windows
And  dissipating in the air.
I stayed silent.
Dear Angel,
I went back to the place we danced today.
Broken glass still litters the floor.
I collected the fragments in my palm.
Reflections of the ghosts of us still dance in the pieces.
Before pocketing them,
I checked on your heart.
All that was left was dust,
But it glittered between my fingers.
Your heart had turned to stardust.
Dear angel,
I hope the stars have welcomed you home.