Angel

He'd call me an angel; tell me that my heart is pure. And I believed
him.

On the Felouka ride in the chilly dark night, he threw me a flower he'd
bought on the street. I smiled and looked into the dark still water
from over the boat.

I thought of myself as his angel.

Everyone danced to the loud Arabic music. But I just stood at one side,
trying to see past the dark green surface; hoping he'd come talk to
me.

He never did.

Cigarettes were passed around, no one said no. Except for me, I never
smoke. Because I'm an Angel.

His Angel.