From the city of angels,
I walked into night,
where every gift was pronounced a flaw.
I left gardens behind,
and their windows of light.
Salt misting my skin, cold and raw.
In the city of demons, the candles bloomed, and the walls breathed sins no prayer could tame.
The moon rose black from the earth half-entombed, while shadows came clawing and calling my name.
And the sea
had already begun in my veins.
Honey on my lips turned bitter with brine.
“You are mine,” from the deep came the same old refrain.
And I drank down its echo, its ache as a sign.
On velvet black nights, silver breakers rise.
The moon wears a bloodred gown.
Let the sea call me its own. Let it darken the skies.
