She is the poem his heart writes while he lays sleeping in perfect slumber and the sounds of a magenta sky flows with music drifting slow and easy from the rhythmic sway of her soft hair and a gentle warmth rains down from her deep blue eyes sending him ever further down into the ocean of this endless dream and the echo of eternity dripps like honey from her precious lips and beautiful smile and the words of the poem burn into the skin of his heart and the music stays with him throughout the waking hours of the day and he smiles a smile he hasn't smiled since the long lost days before love met heartache and tragedy

Way out here in outer space
Searching every distance place
The Moon's so cold without your embrace

I'm still here in flight
Way out past the satellite
Hoping one day we may reunite

Rising quickly is my frustration
Knowing for me there is no salvation
As I see your face in every  constellation

I can't see the silver lining
Even with all the stars still shining
Because all I can do is keep on crying

Loves resurrection is over due
So I will keep on searching for you
Just leave me a **** bread trail, a clue

Because on earth you'll never be again
My heart will never be whole, never mend
The death of everything is the wages of our sin



©Pauline Russell

I awoke in the middle of a dream and you were there writing a story on a white wall in a language I was not familiar with yet I understood every syllable of every word and you wore a long lose black shirt and your left shoulder was exposed and I was instantly seduced by your bare skin and it was then and there that I knew and remembered that it was you and only you and always you that no matter what life I walked through and how far I wandered that wherever and whenever I layed my head down when I dreamed of love I would dream of you

I barely know your name,
I have seen your face,
A sorrowful divinity,

Delicate like the pain in your eyes,
Small, sweet, yet somehow broken,
The tranquil pain says so much.

Your hair drinks in the light,
And your hands hold a smooth
Grief that grows deep and kills,

Eventually you will see a poem
And wonder if you are like that,
If your beauty is calamitous,

If your rose petal smile
Cries with humble tears
When you look at distant stars,

Wether you see white doves
Of dark Ravens ,
Or even both in your sleepy heart,

You who hold the adoration
Of the blind man,
In love with shells,

You- beauty of the sorrows-
Have a sweet hole in your heart,
Love complete, body and soul,

I confess your picture is a spectre,
It exhausts my soul
And I open my arms,

Would you run to me?
Would you just half smile
And cry a tear for what will never be?

You have a divine thirst,
And your eyes carry a myriad
Of fluttering whispers,

Words that float to me,
The wrath of your being,
One day to find one another.....

The bitter heaviness of your name,
Angela....Angela...... Angela,
I whisper to broken air,

Your picture is a feast of beauty,
Yet I cannot hope for more
Than a haunted glare.

I sink myself into mortal grief,
The paralysis of you,
Angela....Angela....

You leap to life
When nothing is possible.

You're perfect,
        She said.

And I felt myself crumble
        Because I knew I was not so

You are perfect,
        She repeated.

Perfect for me,
        You are everything I could ever want.

And I felt myself
        Become whole again.