The love of an Archangel by stichesBodyBagTtags, literature
Literature
The love of an Archangel
Like the shooting star I saw the previous night
With a warm breeze blowing through my hair,
Especially the freeze of winter kisses
It was odd,
Cold, ice cold;
And I couldn't shiver
I didn't crave the warmth
The heat of the fire
With flames dancing in the fireplace
The warmth from the flurry of air was enough,
Heat filled me from the inside... out
Brushing against my skin
With the touch of a feather
A feather with the shimmer of gold
Many of them, thousands ?
strewn by hand to create perfect
Wings
So I leaned into the comfort,
Of safety and all worries faded...
I though it was impossible
Maybe just a dream
I felt myself driven in
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