In the summer night, one of those starry and serene nights, I thought I was dreaming when on my balcony, entangled in its own flapping wings, I found a fallen angel. A pale, delicate and helpless angel, sobbing softly, forlorn. With soft steps, I approached him. Green eyes, tearful, looked back at me through the shadows. Clumsily, he tried to hide from me, but only stumbled over his own wing.
White wings, with soft, silky feathers, shining like the lustre of a pearl. But one of themā¦.. bent and twisted, at such a painful angle that it only filled the eyes of the sad creature with diamond tears, hanging from his perfect lace eyelashes.. I looked at the angel with sorrow. What had happened to him? With soft words and promises of help, he let me approach him and finally I put my hand on his head. He flinched as I slipped my fingers through his hazel curls and a couple of tears fell.
And every tear hurt me, as he moaned in pain while I wrapped and bandaged his broken wing.
Describing an angel is not a mission worthy of a mortal, and his impossible beauty could make the most divine sculpture look like something poorly carved. God had created every curve of his body to be caressed with reverence, the crook of his neck to hold my forehead, his waist to be embraced.
Traits of a pagan god, worthy of the purest god of love and desire. How could I resist his coral lips and the paths of his beauty marks on his skin?
Nights passed and he stayed with me, healing, as we shared more and more gazes and confidences. He was an angel who had ventured to fly in the starry night.But, oh God, night is not for angels, he told meā¦ā¦.
I wished that time with him would never end.I wished that the nights of talking as we held hands belonged to my eternity.When the moon left the starry ceiling and the pink rays covered us, he was always tangled in my sheets. I rested my face on his chest and slept caressing the pearly down of his wings. Did angels feel pleasure? I don't know, but I'd like to think that those moans in my ear wereā¦ā¦
My days with him were too short ā¦. and one day, with a beatific smile, full of peace, he removed his bandage and shook his healed wing. Each flutter felt like a crystal rimming my skin, but ā¦. what could I do? An angel must fly. Tears ran down my cheeks as I hugged him for the last time.
"Will you come back?" I asked, trying to raise my voice above my inner scream. He, searching his lips for mine, whispered, "I'll never leave you".
For you @daydreaming-peach ššš
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