Behind Dark Wings

Whose are these dark eyes that stare diamond-like from behind dark wings?

That carry the shadow of a small boy that loathes his own vessel.

 

The shame of not being the same.

The shallow stoney grave scratched in the path by fear.

 

I will wipe the lipstick from the child’s face

and hold you in the excellence of my heart

 

I will throw witchcraft at your smokescreens

and gold your beauty

and will tenderly touch your cheek

with the back of god’s hand

 

I love you in this instant of a stolen moment

 

For love values the other

as it values its self

© 2017 Martin H Wilde

2 thoughts on “Behind Dark Wings”

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