This time of night, you recite that languid prayer,
Sluggish, slow into the space between our mouths,
And it’s solemn— with a glimpse of silver wings in latent blue.
Warmth envelops us, as mirrored crimson droplets fall wherefore you shudder.
For why you care if not to struggle, in cracking bones and plucking feathers off the son against his Father.
Azrael—
you separate from light as darkness streams,
Smoke that burrows through my waking and is lost within my dreams.
Thinning bodies, young and ravenous for forms of life too grand to touch.
Hear as stars caress the heavens—
waiting they may chime in patience,
outside your stifling room.
And you rise from what I’ve mended, and between us there is warmth.
Seraphim and Ophanim, burning skin, shoulders extending.
Fog on glass, your hands now splendid, caught in darkness all along.
As your words serve benediction, revel in soft piano keys.
Your music buried my afflictions and will bring us to our knees.
For in eyes that mirror patience there has grown your will and strength,
And the glimmer of your gaze is an antiphon, through conversations.
Singing psalms of my own wisdom that I use to reach conclusions
of what’s given and forlorn.
When my angels plead in choir: whispered words of lover’s song.
Let them watch, unbending exile, as fleeting narratives unfold, rupture ties of night’s belonging
while we sit awaiting dawn.
As the sky collapses inwards and embalms you with their song.
I relinquish to protect you— to erase all scattered sins.
To shelter you from scorn and release you from my dreams.