Wings

the wings are still there
propped in a dark corner
of a forgotten room
since childhood

shaggy and moth-eaten
dull gray with dust
feathers drooping
beneath Time’s weight

they whisper of a dream
where anything is possible
where I can fly
if only I believe

and possess a child’s courage
to strap on gossamer wings
constructed of innocence and faith
and leap blindly into space

Photo via Pixabay

 

Night Childe

She walks in step with the night
Snuggly swaddled in its ebony coat
It has always been her one true friend
Her muse, whom she often quotes

She scribbles her wishes on its blank black canvas
Staples her dreams to the backs of dingy doves
Nails her hopes to the wings of ravens
And sends them all to the stars above

She is black lips and blacker heart
Sultry sin in its purist form
A damaged damsel gone bad
Doing whatever it takes to keep warm

She dances with the devil
A wicked waltz of spreading blight
Hoots and howls at the moon
Parts her thighs and devours its light

 

Photo via iStock