Blue Angel

A rush of feather-sinewed limbs brought him to your side, your brightest wing-furled shadow where no demon could find the ghost-troubled mind on your sleep-torn pillow.   He was the blue inside your heart, stretched soft around your pearl where others had torn apart with careless or greedy abuse the true message of your heart, written when love was new and still perfect in its conception.   He lay with you on obsidian sheets of  wave-sculpted rock until your dream was almost real. But now alone, sea-embraced

in the cold nerveless fingers

of one last blue-streaked dawn, the flinted knife of sacrifice has emptied his angel’s heart so yours can go on, with only memory beating what should have been.   Blood seeping warmth into each unguarded moment’s crevice, a lingering, splintered death

whose  thorn outlived the rose

as love’s shrivelled roots dessicate the sap of petal-strewn beds where once we lay our stems inseparable. Now stilled life crushed beneath the careless brush of each forgetting stoke our souls divided by the knife on death’s palette.