You're soft and clean.
Nostalgia fills the throats of Cherubs,
The milk allows them that respite.
Hoarse valleys are no longer bare.
Wings, like lips, flutter upon landing.
Wings , like hands, stutter upon leaving.
Blonde hair holds the Sun in place,
A Sun made to reflect your stare.
Honey filled orifice bled into dry rock,
That was all the land needed,
As it missed feet it had never held,
And knew the paste of blood all too well.

dylan-halvorsen

The girl without a name

Her voice 
cherubs 
caressing my ears 
singing hymns of praise 
until I fell 
into a deep slumber