Gabe the Babe

We have no reason for connection, Gabriel and I, other than by association: he is an angel, I am Family and therefore we should be dangerous to one another.

We are dangerous to one another.  We may not admit it, but then ours is not a relationship that flourishes in conversation.  It’s more primal than that, instinct takes us both over when we come into physical contact with one another.

I don’t need photographs of Gabriel.  I don’t need to go far beneath my surface to suffer his image.  What destroys me is the level of want he encourages in me: want and a desperate need for kinship.  He returns it: the heat that generates from his need ignites us both to recklessness whenever we fall into each other’s orbit. Which is why I restrict him so much: like heroin, Gabriel induced lassitude is both addictive and unhealthy.

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