Angelica, my dear,
Whenever you appear I find you in tears.
You’re the holy white in the air,
Trying to tie up your hair from the world’s distress.
Disrepair letting everything wear and tear,
Seeking answers from here and there.

Angelica! Angelica!
Did the boys make a mess of your mascara?
Little angel, don’t flounder!
Men smudge the lipstick, making everything better.
Nobody knows not, nobody could hurt her,
Not hopeless romantic, Angelica.

Angelica, my love,
When you’re here I think you’re a missing glove.
You’re the sapiens’ compliment to a dove,
Looking for a moon to orbit your earthly sun.
Knocking for hindsight from above,
Even when your pleas are always shoved.

Angelica! Angelica!
Did the boys try to banter?
Tiny star, don’t feel anger!
Men will never tether.
Nobody knows not, nobody could hurt her,
Not troublesomely pure, Angelica.

Angelica, my sweetheart,
I might lie, though you’ve been looking rather charred.
You’re a blackening light with a flickering spark,
Singing like the broken strands of heaven’s harp.
Reminds me of when I saw you standing on top,
A lock sealing fate if you tried to make the drop.

Angelica! Angelica!
Can you hear the boys cry out for her?
Minuscule comet, this journey can go further!
Men shall pity and regret the rapture.
Nobody knew not, nobody should have hurt her,
Not limping, soaring, flying, Angelica.

© Jessica Lauren Faye Terry