gothic, stone angel

In the perpetual twilight of this dank place
i could see. . .
could see steam
rising from her shoulders and wings

i reached from beneath the protection
of my night sky umbrella
pulled off my glove
and touched the stone angel

somewhere in her
a heart still molten
still hemorrhaging warmth into the night

i watched tiny vampire feathers
tiny flecks of snow
melting into tears on her flesh-less cheek

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s