Blood Angel

He speaks, and stillness breaks like glass,

No moment lingers, no futures pass.

Each syllable, precise, controlled,

Commands the heat beneath the cold.

He walks where doctrine dares not tread,

Not of the living, nor the dead.

No scent of dust, no trace of time,

He is the law before the crime.

His hunger does not crave the skin,

It seeks the breach that waits within.

Not flesh, but will, not love, but need,

He is the vow before the deed.

No ritual flame, no sacred fire,

Just breath that sets the veins on fire.

No god to chant, no name to call,

He is the rise before the fall.

I come unmade, yet not undone,

No mercy asked, no penance won.

No blood is spilled, no blade is drawn,

I’m his forever, though always gone.

(Dedicated to C.P.)