The pain is exquisite (can pain be exquisite?) an ache so deep and so profound that it doesn't belong here. It is too big for here. It is too big for any one heart to hold without imploding; folding in on itself with the kind of weight that turns a star into a black hole.

The pain. It pulses. It throbs. It reverberataes in emptiness.

I would do whatever it takes to ease that pain -I would take it from you if I could, and hold you in my wings until the tears subsided and your heart understood that it never has to be alone again.