Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2012
Angel take your breath now and blast the trumpet's rage to tear at the walls. Red chord crumble the tone, abandoned sorrows and crashing stones, defeated army of no one marching no where alone. Cold sweat, pale skin, cold sins to atone, in the arms of grace, of flesh and bone, and a kiss that outlasts time healing time after time.
Sean Kassab
Written by
Sean Kassab
Please log in to view and add comments on poems