Unveiling

You painted me as an angel.

With your flowery language

my being was that of another world-

sun spots in photos,

images floating,

dancing,

drifting along.

We drifted far away,

abandoned the others

and made this world foreign.

You held me in the tips of your fingers,

perched gently,

balanced.

Then as we leaped in the air,

I slipped.

There is no slow motion,

and our reaction was earthly;

like a porcelain statuette,

your angel fell to the earth.

I shattered upon contact,

and was bare before you.

Embarrassed,

you saw I was no angel,

no saving grace,

no post mortem miracle.