We, this imperfect photograph
Seemingly
In which nobody
Wants to be
Warped by wisdom
Invested in love
Honoring any of Earth
Touched at their edges by angels
Apologetic or ever redeemed
As evidenced by this Alone
We, this imperfect photograph
Seemingly
In which nobody
Wants to be
Warped by wisdom
Invested in love
Honoring any of Earth
Touched at their edges by angels
Apologetic or ever redeemed
As evidenced by this Alone
Space, the enemy
Distance, a demon
Molecules collect between us, acting as some referee to our match
Banished to our corners before the fight begins
If these lacerations and these mangled bones, inflamed, remain this slow to heal
If Winter wishes to outrank
Then we want our angels
What feeds troubled souls
Leaves me stifled and sickly
Proof I’m of Angels
Should you forewarned
Weave
Your warm sinew
Your sparked synapse
With the cold
With the numbWould you afterward
Meet
Our empath hearts
Our winged response
With your tears
With your pleasAsked the angels