Fly away, black raven

With every word I free, I tear
pieces of my soul
from your double fisted grip that
in turns
caressed me and
acquainted me with bitter loss.
You, who stood silhouetted
against everything I wantonly desired.
Dark, Machiavellian symphony
with lilting melodies of aching tenderness.
With blood red lips
I whisper desperate
prayers.

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Imago Dei

In the caverns of my mind

I walk

amongst ruins of scattered opulence.

How brilliantly they shined

once,

how final their destruction is.

If You are to live in here

with me,

then please restore my soul.

Set me as a seal upon Your arm,

a royal diadem in Your right hand.

A second pair of footsteps echoes in the dark,

or maybe

I imagine them.