To Break the Sky

A poem

Welcome to the funeral for my anguish, as I have her divinity to drown in instead. She wrote on my skin in a forbidden language the spells to revive me from the dead.

I never knew you could hear infinity, but she keeps surprising me every day, she sings angels’ songs with brilliancy, pronouncing her effusive “stay”.

I was petrified that I would break her too, but she taught me I wasn't broken either, and I will trust for she is never untrue, she is a healer, and a guide, and a preacher.

I know she sometimes fears she’ll go insane, bearing already a drop of that, but just one dose. A rose-tinted storm, a delicate hurricane, she keeps her gold-rimmed dagger close.

That's what she used to break the sky because she flew me up to heaven, where I found out, no, I verified it is not as wonderful as her, my haven.