she was
celestial
stardust and
answered
prayers
to balance
the terrestrial
nature of my
being made
of mud
she was born
to glide
angelically
while i was
born to cast
her footprints
within as
proof of
existence
in the end
we both were
mythical fluff
two vacancies
bridging her
heaven and
my tumultuous hell
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
wow, she doesn’t even merit a pedestal so then how can she leave footprints? I mean, technically, if Angels glide… just whose feet are being cast? Definitely mythical. Extra Nicely done…
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her footsteps as she danced along my soul, beauty in itself is a contradiction like love. impossible to define without crossing in on itself. maybe.
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gorgeously said. I love the contradictions in your poem.
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