Poem: A Fallen Saint

By: Linda M Crate


his love was a mortuary
slowly swallowing
pieces of her
until she could not find herself
for him,
and it seemed to happen overnight
this metamorphosis;
he the fallen angel and she the saint
caught in the misdeeds
of sin—

sometimes she wonders
if this is okay,
but he always reassures her that it is;
hindsight is twenty-twenty she
but he further claims that they’ve had fun
she grits her teeth
isn’t there more to love than
this longing and yearning
she wonders?

one day he uses his broken halo as
a spoon and scoops away her
pride and joy
until her wings are broken,
but he broke the wrong part of her—

he didn’t realize she had claws
until his blood stained the snow.


Categories: Poetry

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