My Angel

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This poem was written just before "that time of the month." As if you couldn't tell. My poems can get dark around this time. 

Spun – down wings

Draped in ivory webs

Studded with pearly lace

Dipped in bloody flames

And ashy wails

Cursed to forever bear my pain

Alas, my angel

I regret your fate

As the deepest of throes crown our hearts

Day gone and locked behind hell's gate

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