Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The silence stretches, thick with what was seen A jagged rift where trust had always been Charlie reaches out, her fingers trembling slight To touch the armor of her vanguard in the night "It wasn't planned," the Princess softly pleads Her heart a garden choked with tangled weeds But Vaggie only stares at where the light had flown A bitter taste of heaven she had once herself known She does not speak of envy or of broken vows But of the weight the golden crown allows "She is a spark," Vaggie whispers, sharp and low "And sparks bring fires that you cannot hope to stow" She steps into the circle of her lover’s space And wipes a stray, celestial tear from Charlie's face The kiss remains a ghost, a shimmering, soft sin As the protector draws the wandering princess in Outside the door, the hellfire starts to rise Masking the doubt within the soldier’s weary eyes They stand together, though the air has turned to glass Waiting for the echoes of the Seraph’s wings to pass
0
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 2:58 PM UTC
The Afterglow of Altars (the third poem continuing The Shadow of the Seraph)
The silence stretches, thick with what was seen A jagged rift where trust had always been Charlie reaches out, her fingers trembling slight To touch the armor of her vanguard in the night "It wasn't planned," the Princess softly pleads Her heart a garden choked with tangled weeds But Vaggie only stares at where the light had flown A bitter taste of heaven she had once herself known She does not speak of envy or of broken vows But of the weight the golden crown allows "She is a spark," Vaggie whispers, sharp and low "And sparks bring fires that you cannot hope to stow" She steps into the circle of her lover’s space And wipes a stray, celestial tear from Charlie's face The kiss remains a ghost, a shimmering, soft sin As the protector draws the wandering princess in Outside the door, the hellfire starts to rise Masking the doubt within the soldier’s weary eyes They stand together, though the air has turned to glass Waiting for the echoes of the Seraph’s wings to pass
This poem series is called The secret kiss.
LotusLovebug
Written by
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 2:58 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem