I sleep with angels,
Peering in on vacant nightmares;
Sweet Amelia, why the despair?
The discontent leaves me unsure,
While the flowers descant.
The elegy plays in cinnamon chants,
I possess no glory in the fields tonight;
No mourning for the wretched soul,
The ones with unrequited love.
Effervescent the moon kissed,
With tender transparency, I lack.
Meandering, invest in portioned brilliance,
She seeps into tenderness,
Feeding upon the souls of the immortal,
I have become the same,
Etched with deceit she brings me forth,
Painting in silhouettes,
Facing my only fear,
I fall to my knees and wither,
My poetry tainted in wistfulness,
I possess no mercy,
As I drown in reverence;
Tonight I bare the same shadow.
©Ashley Leslie 2013
