Angel wings, freshly painted in shades of white
Characteristically flawed and sitting in the corner
He places them at right angles in his tortuous sleep
As their shadows fly away
She whispers in his ear when morning comes
Backlit scene of a red bordello shining in her eyes
When he awakes she always disappears
The angel wings never speak
A painting hangs on the far wall, shrouded in darkness
Except when she is present and I am not
He created it in watercolor, a testament to brevity
The painting is of me
Dark brown ringlets framing a hollow-cheeked face
Eyes always on the angel wings in the other corner
A quiet soul captured in a brief moment of repose
Before the end of love
She takes the wings and places them on her back
As he screams silently in his fractured consciousness
Three steps and she is airborne and circling
Then she takes to the sky
And I am left in the shadows.
Sam
Sam's Online Journal 
Hey! Check out my blog, I nominated you for a Liebstar award.
Awww. Thanks! I will check it out, and I appreciate it.