I listen to sad songs

in a passing rain not

expected it was the

lessons it has taught.

Born in a secret lit in

the corners of a prism

found in memory tune

I use to heal a schism.

Calamity wrought it

tightens passages of

lungs I try speak with

gentle whisps of love.

Crying storms angels

have fallen sometimes.

They winged sing aloft

music wiping our eyes.

In battle we’re precious;

we scavenge a world left

in hands of the damned

that try strangle to death.

I open my eyes for tears,

they are real so I feel it.

I feel I know sorrow to

relish what love does gift.