a fallen angel like the crystals of rain slipping from the petals of an orchid.
your eyes are one of their charred feathers and dusty fog— how could i resist?
i let you fall into the blue of my fire, latching onto a fragment of hope that you could quench it. and for a mere blink, i believed that you had. for my fire had become ice.
ice that seared my bones; bearing the same agony.
my fallen angel, you would fly away when i needed you to stay. though you were an angel, a magical being that i could touch, feel. and so i chased you with my bare feet until i bled while you roamed the clouds; with the wind in your favour.
you told me that I had wings to fly. you led me to the top of a great mountain and pushed me. my wings couldn't save me, but yours could. because you were an angel.
an angel that had fallen, only to land and tear the skin on my arms.
YOU ARE READING
SKIN
Poetryas strong as the bones beneath, the skin of mine i am, embraced with scars, stripes, constellations, and yours as strong as skin I am. { cover drawn by yours truly }
