The Dame and The Pale Horse

Her soul, hidden so deep
Caged behind pale eyelids
Lined with thick, black lashes
Resting upon her painted cheeks

I wish to know the secrets she keeps.
What wonders does her tongue possess?
What stories could those lips tell?
Yet, only silence echoes off the walls.
No breath left for her to speak

In death, she seems to sleep
So comfortable without life
Lying ignorant of the love she left behind
So selfish in her fucking ways
My Angel, never meant to fly

2 thoughts on “The Dame and The Pale Horse

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