I know this sweet scent,
It comes from your timber hair,
This euphoria.

Two wings on her back,
Shredded by a devil,
Healing in safety.

Love is a harsh word,
It causes so much hatred,
Unbalanced feelings.

I once compared knights,
Walking among the armor,
Wings crushed by my fear.

This freedom so great,
Weightless as the air we breathe,
Never a soul like you.

A soul like that boy,
Impossible to amend,
He has no mind still.

A ghost parading,
Traversing with no good thoughts,
Only a black fire.

My levity; you,
A cherub, my shield,
I love you, Angel.

Right here, on this ground,
A war unseen, a retreat,
An open defense.

Unguarded, weakened,
I lay in this angel’s arms,
My only support.                                -Marshall Hiatt, February 2013