A duplicitous scene of memory and motion, seraphim and song: the sensuality of two lovers—one a mercurial visionary, the other a gentle pragmatist—juxtaposed by the violent ecstasy of a fallen angel, whose wings are freed when a mortal tears her skin away.

Rough fingers move across euphonious strings,
Working slowly through the muscles of my throat
The inexplicable is nondescript:
I can only do you justice in metaphor.

In the visceral beauty of evening
I seek solace in your warmth, your flesh,
Your presence reverberates against facets of memory
Breathes dimly through the twilight of my body.

Crescent curve of my form beneath your hands
The soft steady rhythm of your palms:
Moonlight shines pale across vertebral ridges,
Illuminates softly feathered cicatrices of skin.

I can feel, in the silence, his retrograde absence
Working backwards through my reality,
Tearing at the seams of faintest recollection,
Leaving me empty: a labyrinth of want.

My fingernails claw across leveled mortality
Echoing desire in their bite against your flesh,
Go on—tear against me
Push your fingers towards my lips, my jaws
Lace your knuckles through each cleft in my spine.

Go on—
I want this,
I need this.

Silence your doubts, as I have silenced mine.
Tell yourself that I have suffered enough,
And that you want what this is,
And what we are,
Or could be—

And for the rest of my life,
I will love you for it.

The motions are beautiful,
Plumed sockets and soft pulsations,
As your flesh laces through the fabric of my reality,
And with the unfurling of each feathered joint,
I remember what it means
To feel these muscles move again.

So when bare wrists press together
And trembling limbs intertwine:
When fingers clench the wrought iron bed frame
And bodies bend to meet the curve of the moon—

Revel then in raw openings of flesh and memory:
Release me from this nightmare of skin

Your mind is like his: pragmatic, keen—
But when you hear this music in the darkness,
Each note lingering like a trace of falling silver
Tell me please, my atheist, why only for an instant
In soft, sweet, clenching muscles,
We both believe in God.

Let me fall asleep as the sun is rising,
And watch the flecks of golden light
Tangle in the lashes of your azure eyes.
Let that be my final memory.

And if you stay—
Please stay—

Maybe I will wake beside you.