~Temporary Wings~

Mortality washed over in her voice soothes like a welcomed anesthesia, frolicking through bone, tissue and ensparked membrane. The days wearing away my soul like an iron maiden to flesh, yet in her eyes, her voice, her touch is a release. Wings sprouting for a moment which lives like centuries in those sparce hours we share each day. In sparkling pools of russet, loden and brown I see this fierce vivacity, this raw truth which suspends the reality that manifests in monstrosity. Little by little that which was killed within is from her hands given back to me. And between them there is the give and take, destroying and creating me with such accuracy.