-

His soul was the colour of the sunset 

But tasted just like sin, 

Damaged yet impossible to give up; 

How could the angel then deny himself 

The forbidden fruit of such a damaged soul 

When nothing compared to those eyes 

That could outshine the sun 

And the only punishment it brought 

Was the mere cracking of wings? 

Author's Note

It is funny how long I spent on this in comparison to the actual length.