Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2010
Dusk falls like angel wings torn and drifting;
Cold like the heart that embraces me.
He comes, my Azrael,
The soft kiss of sleep touches my face.
He lures me from my earthly bed
Where upon my form lies dead
From the wound inflicted by one I loved.
Gun smoke rises by my blank stare.
Written by
Lady D'Los
646
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems