shall i trail my lips
upon the blank canvas of your skin,
like a painter brushing the hues of sunset
of pink, red and amber akin.
shall i brush words of love
upon the empty blanks of your skin,
Like the Mona Lisa, your beauty lies therein.
Perhaps then I shall see,
Such a vivid painting
Of the beauty that is thee.
hear his howls,
ringing so vividly across the stark silence
of the night.
hear his howls
as he calls to the moon goddess,
like a lover would
as the wolf
surrenders his eternal soul to her.
i shall not ask of how you fell
or the pain that accompanied your fall,
nor the grace that burns away
into nothingness
as your white feathers turn grey.
i shall not inquire the agony of thy realm
casting you down
nor the punishment that was so harshly
decided upon.
But I shall ask
Of the beauty that still lingers
In the soft whisper of your lashes against your cheek
And of the sadness in your gaze;
If I’ll ever be able to cast them out
Like the fallen angel
That you are.