A woman lies sleeping in her bed,
Her hair is a halo
Her bedsheets caress her frame.
In this dreamlike state her skin is smooth,
Her mind is at rest.
It is almost as though she has never been touched by worry or fear,
Or life itself.
Apart from her relaxed brow she remains much like she is when awake.
She is
Silent.
Her ambitions are kept safely
In the sanctuary of her mind,
And her darkest desires can only be found in the darkest of hours
When she she is supposed to be asleep.
Unseen
Unknown.
Her angelic face hides her ravenous hunger
To feel as she knows she can
To be as she knows she is.
Only the faintest hint of colour in her cheeks can suggest
The passion within.
In her dreams she is dancing free,
While the city around her burns.
She is wild and naked
And loud
And hideous
And joyous all at once.
But from her face
This cannot be seen.
Even if the angel awoke and parted her lips,
Letting her secrets pour out
And rush through the winding streets
Down the sewers
And up to the heavens
She would
never
be
heard