The Dark Angel

You have not passed by

the windows of my mind in years.

Elijah, the poet

the man with the tortured soul.

Fed by the ravens and

ravaged by your own inner demons.

Driven by the beat

of the dark angel’s pounding drum.

Dressed in leather moccasins

hair, a flowing, jet black, mane.

A lion’s head

tattooed on your arm.

I was just a girl

the first time that I saw you.

And from that day

nothing was ever the same.

Plagued by the warring sides

of the black and white of your soul.

We sat for hours and hours

surrounded by pages of words.

I loved you with the passion

and the innocence of youth.

You said you loved too much

and could not let yourself.

You said that you would only

break my tender heart.

That the stains upon your soul

would destroy me.

You did break my heart

no matter what you said.

You were within me

though our bodies never met.

You came to me

just now, in a dream.

To tell me you were sorry

but you had to go.

You begged me to come with you

to throw caution to the wind.

To follow the tear stained path

that once led me away from you.

I have no idea where you are now

I was 17 years old.

Why now, would you

visit me in my dreams?

I hear those haunting melodies

that fell softly from your lips.

In a voice that sounded like smoke

swirling above my head.

The memories of you linger

still and I can taste them.

All of my ghosts

seem to be coming back from the grave.