My husband

In a house upon a hill he stands,
watching the world pass by,
chaos and insanity bleed together,
as stars fall from the sky.

The room he's in is dark,
the lights are off and no sound disturbs his solace,
there, a whisper but he does not turn, for she's not an intruder.

Her approach is silent,
wings ruffle and bleed from other's pain,
while she holds her own inside,
her hand closes over his shoulder,
her touch soothing, but she says no words.

He allows this, covers her hand with his,
a silent embrace in which they find peace,
she knows where she goes he cannot follow,
or even when she will return, but all that matters is now.

Now they stand tall together,
while the world sleeps and the shadows linger,
will she ever find what he's been looking for,
the answer to what keeps him here on earth.

Her heart burns with fire, as does his own,
he sees it all in her eyes, but he isn't hers to claim, not yet.

A treasure among ruins, too good for this world,
the Angel of Pain wanders alone.

In the dark he waits, listening to the night's song,
some nights they find their way to here and now,
but she always leaves, by the morning hour.

The air sighs as her touch is gone,
she's left again for her tasks,
he settles in to watch and wait,
for the Angel of Pain to let go of her hate.

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