confessions

[painter]

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.

[wolf]

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.

[fallen angel]

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.