A clusterfuck of thoughts running through my mind is conveniently being ignored by my heart that longs for the angel with a tender touch. Her smile that brighten up my day, her voice that’s music to my ears, her laugh that’s both honest and erotic; I’m an atheist but if this is the proof that angels exist, I would happily submit myself to faith. Then, time and time again my mind reminds me it cannot be. No matter how much the heart yearns, that angel is over the edge of the visible universe that is simply beyond reach. Then again, the heart is as stubborn as a child. Intransigent and pertinacious as always, if it takes hell just to be with her I would gleefully oblige. So the mind yields and patches up the weary and teary heart.