Bless the fallen for they have suffered.
Lovers or Angels?
It doesn't matter.
They have both felt heavens callused grip.
They have both taken the steps to slip.
They have both feared a great loss.
They have both felt the warmth that injects, infects, that gives your doe eyes that gloss.
Bless the fallen.
The perfect Adam and the perfect eve both fall in line to see our shine.
In awh how we spend our time.
To watch as we intertwine.
The serpent unwinds but we pay it no mind.
It spreads its grime, it's lies, and deceit.
He can keep his apples we feel Eden as we lay, as we playfully touch feet.
The perfect man and the perfect women they reek of jealousy for the heaven they were promised was  bested when lips hit cheek.
So Bless the fallen
Lovers or Angels?
It matters not
With lip to cheek our heaven is brought!