Lay down and sleep my love,
In nights embrace.
The cold air pricks your skin,
And strokes your face.
Walk through your dream my love,
I leave without a trace.
My soundless voice speaks within,
At your heartbeat's pace.
Fly on dark wings my love,
A feathers silent grace,
Sighs of woe flee from your grin,
Banished from this place
YOU ARE READING
Soft Curses of Angels - Volume 3 - Vaudevillian
PoetryThe "journey to middle age" part of my chronological anthology of bad poetry. Estimated age at time of writing 24-28. I both thank and apologise to any soul who takes the time to read these.
