Quote by author: Angel feather colors hold no meaning,
if the messenger of God is not a paragon of virtue.

Every year she wore the plumage with such grace
and her beauty raptured every being around the liquid festival
Caribana black and gold tassels pasted on each tender ******
She lost herself in a night of debauchery.  One that took her further away from truth and the love that she so hungered for.
dance little lady dance
by a ***** man's glance
you don't stand a chance
That night she went too far and ended up by the side of the river. Her face streaked of mascara dripped onto a shattered heart, and turned into a million shards of glass.  A celebration of life turned deadly cold beneath the winds of deceit.  Sand blown bits of broken moon entered her soul as she lay still on the ground.  Heaven's stars muted stunned, held space as  
a concrete angel
invisible but able
touched by a glacial pulse  
noticed she was still breathing but scarcely, so wrapping the dying girl in feathers woven from God's fibrous root, she washed the red off her soaked plumage, and cleaned up her wounded back.  Two vestal hands bathed her with life's essence, and just like that, she was born again.
"Choose Life" was the last thing she heard uttered to her faint ear.   Then she heard the sound of a beautiful silence, as the Angel of God spread her glorious veiny wings and flew away.
the grass held its dew
and the wind blew
a woman child grew
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2023