Angel-faced beast

Breathe heavy with *hot embers
Fists facing forward, knuckles white
Silk dipped in milk disguised as skin

How lovely you are in the fall

Burning down where my head may lay
Drag me across the desert landscape
For I am soaked in righteous sin

For you, sweet beastie*

...are my salvation.

And then my eyes descended to my skin

Weathered

Covered in scars

Whose origins I had forgotten

And I realized

I was

*beautiful

My love is not a rose for a rose be too common
My love is not one to be described as flowers
She is but a drop of rare rain to the desert plain
Something my heart can hardly contain
My love is not a rose, no
But an indescribable thing
My love is like the unseen rings of Saturn in the spring

To be lost in a daze
Body burns for your ways
How those eyes capture my being
Corrupted and twisted
Some call it the 6th sin
The way sometimes we behave
But all that it could be
It shall be and would be
Because you have found new meaning in me
My love, my dear
You've turned gloom to cheer
And this is your poem today

I have these calluses on my hand
Nearly like grown man
Yet my lover says my touch is smooth as silk

My heart bled crimson roses as she lay in silence.
Body still yet fluttering, floating above all else.
She covered what the world found beautiful and hid even more that which was herself.
That which I call beauty and whole.