Fallen Angel

Interlacing fingers

Folded

Head bowed

She’d pray for the secrecy of thoughts spoke too loud

But these secrets, they pressed themselves to her face like a shroud

And her hands again clasped

Nightly the tears would follow

With whispers to ears

Perched in the visible hollow

Listening and lilting

Under the heavy burdens lain

Sharing each pursuit of undressing the shame

And tomorrow she will sing again

In volume-less repetitive phrase

That the knife laid upon her would not cut but only graze