His ebony wings were spread-eagled, nailed crimson to a 
Cross (my heart, hope to die)
Head bowed, body dangling from gossamer strings pulled by 
Shadows mouthing out lyrics to an 
Unsung melody; a siren
Song of surrender and serenity amidst fragments
Of a fairytale heart that eternity tends to tear apart. 
Ichor peeks out from sleek surgical cuts, frosting his heart with
Thoughts that don't belong to him,
Voices that say "This is truth this 
Is gospel so take it take it or leave it" but there's never really a choice, not really.
And he's a blind man waiting for the sunrise:
Black and black and black and blue but he can't see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore
Where is it? 
Where is paradise? 
So under the stars it is- walking, walking, walking till his eyes smile with the light of constellations, chest rises without the weight of a thousand planets. Finally. 
Finally. *
The sun has risen when the train tracks suddenly cleaves in half and
he *chooses.
He chooses freedom.
Instantly the perpiration latches itself on him like a long-lost lover, but it doesn't taste like the 
barrel of a gun anymore
So he keeps trudging, dreaming about once-upon-a-time wings and caresses of the wind that drew shivers down his spine and sketched onto him an electric soul 
He blinks the roaring sand from his eyes,
When suddenly he finds himself lost, derailed, bare feet blazing, gazing 
up into the periwinkle desert sky. 
The abyss yawns louder and louder:
The sand is beige beckoning, the rocks burgundy bewitching
Slowly he leans forward--A tipping scale 
But he doesnotfall,doesnotfly, hovering on the edge of a shimmering faultline
Instead he melts into the arms wrapped around his waist (pulling him back)
every scar, every word he doesn't speak out loud outlined in unfamiliar pain and a scarlet emotion he doesn't recognise
In his ears are matching heartbeats, echoes ricocheting off bullet-proof wards, hiding a
Rock and roll soul
Look up just a little and he's drowning, heisdrowningdrowningdrowning in a troubled sea of brilliant green and flecks of gold
Cards fold, feet bold
Into the darkness he fell, bracing for the crash-land.
Rolling heads over heels, till the damp dust settles and lips meet lips.
What a sight. 
For once in his life, he doesn't fight. 
For a long time, they sit like that--back against back, 
Until cerulean blue eyes turns to amber and spring-bud green burns to ash.