SHE
her eyes, gray like the lightning in a storm.
her smile, clear like glass and diamonds.
her lips, painted the color of dry, dark roses. aged and tired, but crinkled with the exquisite beauty of time.
she's perfect...
like the crystal clear reflection of an angelic figure in a shimmering stream of water. vast and open, beautiful and free.
the picture of her face, every lilt and curve remains encaptured in my mind.
encaptured. enclosed. as if it's some kind of secret.
as if it's a sin.
but when i look into her gray, gray eyes. so pure and so deep, i cease to see any sin.
there is no utter innocence in the taste of her lips.
the smoothness of her skin.
every curve of her hips and every bone of her body, i get down on my knees and pray- i pray as if it's the last time i will.
for there is no sweeter innocence in our tragic love,
so sad and so sweet
like treacle an tears.
i smile as we say our praise, with clenched teeth and a bright, bright smile.
i'm tired. i'm tired again.
for her i will love and never stop.
her head on my shoulder,
her hand on my waist,
her gentle touch on my skin
she's an angel. and i am just a girl.
a sinning girl.
a burning girl.
for a love so sweet and so pure will send me away, turned away from the all-forgiving.
but i love her.
how i love her so...
for there is no sweeter innocence, than the 'sickness'
we possess.
