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Now did angels weave your hair?
From hell’s coals and raven’s feather
Demonically colour, though thick and fair
Fitting your eyes made of the darkest weather

Now did the angels sing your name?
Hear the choirs chant in the dark
Adored as a God, shining in pure fame
Though at sun’s first greeting, disappears this spark

For you’re a normal man, in all your glory
Hanging on balloons tied by barbered string
Musing just whispered me an idyllic story
Isn’t this all just a love blinded thing

But then you touch my cheek and make me cry
I beg on my knees for you to stay and not to ask why
©2008-2009 ~aors-as-aore
:iconaors-as-aore:

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tadaa.

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January 10, 2008
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