A phantom hand to brush away the hair from your face, a soft touch fearful you might break.
My fingers know no music yet they seem to dance in the air.
Searching for a feeling, a melody woven through the silence in the cool absence.
God wept on day seven for what he had done, given us away to the wolves as prey.
A battlefield a sun apart, I fell upon my sword once before.
A wound so deep I felt my heartstrings come undone by grace not harm.
Upon your head I place a grass crown, woven together from the blood in my veins, the ice you melted away and the love I felt save.
I drop my weapons, I render myself defenseless.
No one can take a martyr from his cause, I would die for you a thousand times, just to be seen once in your eyes.
A smile is all I need, a simple gesture that in time will prove to be my guiding light.
My life is far from blank, parchment soaked black with ash.
My muse, my lovely muse.
Your face pale and true as if you were created from the hands of an artist who knew what true beauty becomes.
The secret in it all is that we were meant to survive through this tragic down fall.
Guardians stand triumphant and tall, protective in a world built on moral corruption and lustful sin.
I am just a man in the presence of your divinity.
See me as worthy and share yourself with me.
Need not your flesh or the bounty of your loins.
Just the soft security of your voice.
Chivalry has not died, I will woo you with all my might.
Building up inside of me, these toxic poisons that beguile what I perceive.
Yet one thing with absolute vindication I will care for you and love you until you decide to turn the page and leave me in the remnants of the day.
My goddess I bow at your feet a humble servant to your righteous decree.
Bestow upon me your laurels so that I might have the chance to someday reach...
Reach which has always escaped me.