Conversing The Angel

Conversing the Angel

(On Saturday Evenings in 63)

“You will always be a special memory to me:

No more and no less

than this.

And it is good you keep writing;

to hear that all is well with you.

Always one with words, you were

like the beginning of a song.

 No, nothing here is ever wrong,

beautiful, blue and no doubt warm.

It sounds like you are suited to a new life.

Always a smile when I think back.

Always a smile that I sometimes lack

when the thatch of my soul

won’t dry and crack.

Watch over him.

He will fly,

conquer all and won’t fear the angels.

It’s from the demons he must hide;

we will sooth him inside.

Snow. 

Just a few flakes,

but until the thaw

we must seal the door.

My red fingers rubbing raw

 your bloodshot eyes.

Here. Take this. Eat.

A beautiful rose for a beautiful soul.

You are forever engraved

in my heart, take comfort in that.

Don’t look back.”

“Your mocked up smile upon your lips,

within our dreams we somehow taste

from which we must retreat in haste.

Vainly waiting for a glimmer

your halo slipped without a shimmer.

I’ll meltdown no more.

Where’s the reason?

Madness is now out of season

as is love, passions, desires, thirsts:

when finally the heart boils and bursts.

If I can save him from vile angels,

demons will remain untasted;

if I can save him from the careless lies,

my life has not been wasted.

I thought love could find walks and ways

to splendor’s perfect perception,

but the façade that you now portray

is fraudery and deception.

I’d write a book.

If I thought you’d look.

I’d set down words and conjure realms

but they could never overwhelm

the studied indifference and twisted frost:

there amongst your lazy clichés lost.

I’ll find my own way out, thank you.

Through the exit door.

I will always be a special memory to you:

No more and no less.

I choose no more.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=hAvHwV_pDNo