Poetry

Gorgeous, fallen angel.
Perfect. Flawless face. Body of a God.
Immortal. Immoral. Intoxicating.
Black wings stretch across the sky.
Only the angel in my view.
Oh what to do.
I can’t resist.
Oh but I must.
I drop to my knees and pray. Pray.
Silently. Then aloud.
Screaming at the gods.
Then the whimpers, the apologetic whimpers.
I’m so sorry.
How could I fix this?
The angel no longer deceives me.
Resisting is easy.
I alone will be the angel’s demise.
I alone will serve my gods.