No one told me that the rail holding me up was on loose hinges.
I'm operating at my sanity's fringe.
My hands click the pen top more than they clasp in prayer these days.
Morning nights stay. 
Theybleed into the morning because I can never slip into a deep sleep.
Searching for release. 
They never told me it was up to me to save me. 
I always believed in loving angels. 
But where does the love go when communication becomes unstable? 
Do we ever forget the pain of our sloppy lover's tango?