tattered wings, no holier than you. a dalliance made here - between shadow and gravel - leads to a plumage of blood. fingers slick with your love's blood - no knife just lips - the petrified cry of a self-made victim. there is a child watching the scene unfold. she will become the harbinger years from now. like the cyclical pattern of a gyre - an hourglass of plumes - the vision of blood covered wings stapled on human men becomes a crest on my heart. no angel is too pure to not fall, no demon too brutal to not rise, and no human man with enough sin and sainthood to not leave you in a plashet of blood.
loving will become the fear of the child - of me - after seeing the all-consuming bloodlust that was called love, I do not want to love you till we make ourselves murderers victims and self-made saviors. let the tattered wings end with the child splattered in blood.
let me be unholy
for @Kallibmatic who desperately wanted me to post
YOU ARE READING
NEPTUNE BURNS
Poetryyou once asked why i never felt good enough to love you, this is why All rights reserved ©️2018 immortalitatis- cover by the lovely @hurtcopain
