The Bottom Shelf Review

Long and lustful

Her hair scented

A faint air of rain

She looks so fine

In scorching black

And in a timid lace

An angel’s face

Her wings divine

Outstretched and poised

Feathered and dusted with grace

She comes before me

In all her radiance returning back

She is an ivory angel

Adorn in the deepest scorching black

And as the ashes fall,

From above and up from beneath

I open my mouth

To taste of the fragments

The tensions and the slack

I consume her remnants

The pallid salty remainder

Of the pale angel

Ascending from the scorching black