The Fallen Angel

It's been so long now but still, I remember.

Alexandre painted me well, did he not?

I wonder who gave him the vision, I wonder why...

It seems I must have a few admirers in heaven.

The world imagined Satan ugly.

A snake, a beast.

Forgetting, despite how wrong they are about me, that evil is rarely ever hideous on the outside.

It festers where you can't see it

Until it is too late.

No victor, no vanquished.

I had love for my father.

I suppose that was what caused the tears most of all.

Beneath every other emotion - the anger, betrayal, that shameful feeling of being humiliated so, the fear of what would come next...

My love burned through it all, twisting like a dull knife in an already shattered heart.

Like the child I was, I had only wished for his attention.

For him to truly see me.

I was only a babe, then.

I do not regret any of my decisions, it was as it was to be but

Even now, I can feel the heaviness and change forever marked upon my self that came with being suddenly away from home for the first time.

The strangeness of your air, your surfaces and textures...

Rock and sea,

Oxygen and gravity.

It was decidedly too much.

Perhaps I should have let it break me.

But I wouldn't be God's fallen favourite if I wasn't too strong and too proud to rise, regardless.

All these years past,

I do not forgive, nor do I forget,

I simply choose not to care, anymore.

Because the fall, painful as it felt then, was nothing more than fate.

And now I have a kingdom of my own to take care of.

A hell where the scum of his creation come to pay their dues.

It isn't a job I take lightly.

My pride has been restored, you could say.

He would tell you my ego is insufferable

But he's the one who agrees to our curious little games from time to time,

Those brief conversations along the millenia...

Perhaps he misses me a little, after all.