Lucifer fell
Into the quiet twilight
To look through the window
Of a secluded home.
Her silver wings chilled
In the pine-scented air,
With the frost on her breath
Rising against the glass.
The last waneing candle
Threw light to the form
Wrapped up in a blanket
Collapsed on the floor.
Hand to the frame
And her face pressing close,
The light and the shadow
Danced over the reposed
While frost ate away
The one brain who still knew
What depths of tribulation
The Angels went through.
The insanity of fortune,
The lunacy of life,
The meaningless chasm
Of fractured love.
Reposed on the floor,
In seven breaths or less,
Of a sudden and quiet
Didn’t work anymore.
The death of a dream
Like a paradise of light
Lost from expectation,
From memory, and sight.
Lucifer fell
Away from the pane
With a sigh at her lips
And eyes shuttered with rage.
The frost in her wings,
The misery that aches,
The cruelty in love
Of defiance to faith.
Poems and Short Stories 