The heavens birthed an ethereal raiment. <br />Rained-down in whispered droplets to clothe you in <br />lily-white purity. An enchanting guise <br />to which your prowess bequeaths such <br />comforting tranquility. <br /> <br />Your lace touch ever-soft and promising <br />Such faint echos of a calm to juxtapose <br />my void of emptiness. I beseech your kind <br />mercies. Forgive me in feint fleur-de-lis and <br />rain down mercy. <br /> <br />I'll step into the light to taste the sweet manna <br />as it descends delightfully onto ashen brows. <br />Bathe me in your joyous hue and reveal to <br />me life anew. Commend my spirit into <br />your celestial grace. <br /> <br />Non. Pas de pardon pour un coeur si troublé. <br /> <br />Your welcoming silken touch frowns with darkened disdain. <br />I am rejected to once more commune with the darkness. <br />Soot tears crash violently onto tarred puddles of <br />pain. <br /> <br /> <br />Am I not worthy? <br />You said you would save me. Why won't you save me?<br /><br />Marcellino Carlo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lies-from-the-lips-of-angels/
