Angel without wings is a demon
He was an angel first; the beautiful morningstar whose wings were iridescent with the light of galaxies. Then a small mistake and he watched his beloved wings burn black as charred feathers fell and all that remained of his heart were two crimson scars, eternally searing on his back. The flesh never healed and the pain never stopped for he was not a fallen angel. To fall he'd have to land but not even the earth would catch him for angels don't get forgiveness and they never land: they fly or fall. So for eternity he was trapped in the fire that had destroyed the most beautiful part of him, hiding behind a glamour of a demon and only once every day, between night and morning did the mask fall to reveal golden eyes that used to reflect the dawn and pure white hair, burnt at the tips. This was the monster they feared, a dove without wings; caged and burning for eternity because he asked for the freedom to question.
Flowers of the Night
Flowers of the night!...
...Come open,
One and all!...
Reveal yourselves,
My little
Flowers of the
Night!...
...Your petals
Drop down
On the
Tombstones,
So slow,
And cover the letters
Of our latest
Inhabitant.
This graveyard
Is gaining
Occupants every year!
...While the
Doomed,
And defiant
On the outside appear
To be perfectly
Happy
With their
Make believe
Beat...
...High alarms from
The city!...
...The sirens, and
Noise,
Keep them strung
To their thread
While the Dead
In their Void,
Buried deep in
The dirt
Wonder why it
Keeps on...
Sweet flowers of
The night!...
You can make it
With your prize!...
...Flowers that
Revive
The aesthetic,
Dying art...
...These bloomers
Do their part!...
...Knowing full well
Every cure that
They provide...
...It is
Death and
Birth
Revived!...
...Flowers flicker
Like a flame!...
...Wonder if
My deeper urges
Will be hard
To tame
Tonight...
...Or just
Contemplate
My breaking
Heart in
Awe...
...Flowers of the night!
...Come open,
One and
All!...
©
2017
Bunny Villaire