31 January 2013
I want to bring you the white feathers
Of my impure wings song,
The ones that tickle your nose
And make the Gods sneeze my will aloud;
Stained in blood from my veins,
My ink of crimson, solely yours to sooth away,
To play and harmonize;
And kiss them to your shoulder blades,
Mend the gaps in your flight,
The cracks in your voice.
I want my chapped lips,
The flesh you adored to press,
To sink against silent calls
And keep you breathless.
Yes, my dear boy,
Do not be angry at the melody.
Just stay close to me, forever.
I want to make your song take flight,
Yes, the music of the night.
Phantom's Allegory. • Opuss № I