Poem – “The Art of an Angel” – Romance/Descriptive

How do I, describe the one,
Who has, lifted me, from deprivation?

How do I, describe the woman,
So beautiful, as to, unearth woes, from a, past life?

To make me see, all that, has come to be,
And the failures, from faiths, I transgressed, too horridly,

All mathematics, and all stars,
Point to an answer, I’ve long been, desiring to witness.
All of beauty’s image, stands before me,
In the caressing, of angel wings, and a lucid smile.

There, I see a face, engraved with stones, of purple, and red,
And a naked form, of ivory

There are, to each leg, the comparison
To pillars, of ice, or pillars, of marble.
I adore her shape, in her making, that trembles,
Under the warmth, of a dashing sun!

“Face me,” as I say it, to face me,
You are now loved, once more,

By a man, who made a woman, as a statue,
An admiration, for a life, so lonely.
I am in awe, as I’ve remained, in awe.
Movement? Is there movement, in a lifeless shape?

There must, be ebony,
A stain, on my fractured heart.
It is there, and I’ve felt it.

It has covered, and here, I know it,
Before the denial, I’ve kept.

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