Amy Van De Casteele Poet Free verse

The Angel...

The angel of death watches over me; 
Presiding, a faceless black valkyrie 
With eyes of varnished jet 
And the soul of a chastened murderer 
He loves me, he wants me - he yearns…
He dreams of the day when I will come home 
Into his eternal embrace, 
Into his realm of fire and snow

I wonder if he would make me his queen, 
I wonder if my crown would be of thorns 
Or bleeding roses? 

I do long for him sometimes, 
In the night, in the dark, when my blood is cold 
And the loneliness is a vicious ache, 
Deep down in the pit of my heart 
Then I sigh out the name of Death, 
My hand clasped to my breast, 
And each breath grating through my lips 

We were made for each other, death and I 
We are two withered peas, 
Locked in a shrivelled pod – 
We are the anti-Christ, the anti-life, 
We are the scorch of hell fire on flesh 
And the taste of arsenic on your tongue 
Oh I may be mortal now, vulnerable as a fawn, 
But my sands are ebbing, time is running out 
And soon I will fly to meet him, dear Death, 
On his skeleton horse in a suit of charred armour 

My knight, my night…
My black night 
I have become accustomed to the dark, 
It soothes me, 
A vampire it has made of me, shunning the light 
Cringing from sunshine, hiding my eyes
I want to bury my face in the nape of death, 
In his swirling ebony hair, 
And be cocooned in its smothering gloom

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