A pilot within the storm,
Two hearts lost in their passing streams,
While eyes can no longer see
Oceans for the monochrome skies.
Hell has seen to those lovelorn,
Born of wings, lost from the angels.
Sadness bears flight for infants,
Senseless in the resounding grief,
Compelled for arms, uttering insignificance.
A smile comes crashing low
To the truest form of a rainbow.
There were skies that leaked for irises,
As now the irises weep for the skies.
Stains from the petal’s kisses,
Laid as rows upon caskets with sighs.
Hearts caught in the same lash –
To the thunder, to the turbulence
Where winds speak the words
No lover had ever heard.
Shattered wings to the broken vows,
A poisoned heart no one woke
From where sadness had spoke –
A blissful testament to the bird that died,
With its wings the span of its life.
A golden veil over the same idle face
Laid back of its dismal tomb.
Lift what memories are drawn to sleep,
Without fading for wounds to keep.
For stars that sink in the night,
Blue skies fold near the angel’s flight.