grey

in the war cemetery
there lay a boy
with arms for wings
and crystal eyes
like twin blue demons.
at his side
a dark girl
screams at him
for the last time.
her arm is the skeletal arm
claiming from the grave,
pointing accusation;
for he made me this way.
he made us this way.
she'll justify,
say that his old ways
will splint[her] and die.
and he will rise...

but all of us-
the brides-

we burn in paradise...