Is it true that every time our lips meet
An angel grows his wings
And learns to fly
Each time we profess undying love
In almost soundless whispers.
Lost souls of children find heaven
When we hold hands before people’s doubting eyes
While the sky’s gates swing open
The moment I unlock the door
And find you sitting in the corner
Relieved of waiting lingering grief.
What if I touch your body?
An angel grows, learns life, sin and sadness;
He becomes a saint
With all our heartaches and discomfort
Of leaving, of letting go.
It was said that a kiss
Does not anymore awaken
This beauty lying in her rose bed,
But our love will still heal wounds
And forgive all mothers whose babies
Never had the chance to wake up
And see the sun rise more slowly
Than everything that falls.
We create angels every time we sin
The moment our mothers cry
To find us in an embrace bound tightly
By halos that do not scorch but warm our bodies.
And I picture us succumbing to sugary temptation,
Stripping our clothes thread by thread
To weave wonders of white satin gowns
Worn by angels in their journey
To their own sweet bliss.
