Zefisheye

Hang your wings up for me tonight and tremble, frail and pale as winter's skin within my arms. Be my stranger, an undone deed I can carry like a candle or a verse whose words are simple and let me feel it flame like a soft bandage on my wounds. Be my damage, an unhealed skirmish so sore that sorrow wanders like a buried child and banish me to yesterday and fill my cup with all I've ruined. Hang your wings up for me tonight and tumble, silent and fragile as summer sin within my arms and be my savior - one long last shudder behind my eyes where you never thought to look.