The Angelic

A poem about the power of mad, undying love

The Angelic

With her soft radiant smile and expressionless eyes

Glowing under the bright glowing pale moon

Shining over the vast grasslands on which I sat perched on a monument of gray stone

With a large cross looming over my head on which an uncertain yet familiar name was carved

Shining, smiling

As she walked towards me carrying a golden ring

So bright it was blinding

So gracefully she slipped it into my ring finger

Inches her face drew closer to mine

I felt her breath warm up my frozen face

And with a cold distant voice she said

“Soon we will be one”

Inches more her face drew closer

“I already said yes, and I kept my promise”

Inches more

“You’ll have to do so as well”

“Don’t break your promise”

And as she drew her face closer yet again she closed her eyes

Speechless, motionless, I was left

And as the tip of her undying nose practically touched mine

I could not say a word

But she did

“Death is not, nor will it ever be ... an excuse, my love”