oftheangels

~ Sweet lips, crimson, kiss my soul, kiss my face;
while tongues of angels sing a melancholy song from high above;
this bed we lie upon becomes our lovers funeral pyre ;
we immolate ourselves, deep light rising up within our fire;
and when pieces of darkness seep out from broken edges;
and ashes whisper nothing but their silent words;
the world just falls away, and only distant memories remain;
our love and life but vapors, born again anew ~



The end to a perfect week..and release...good friends,and merry making..and music, sweet music..still waiting for Eros to arrive,and the lure of my muse!