Wings of Fire

In a few days she’ll be back, wrapped inside a thunderstorm and with wings made of fire.

She’ll visit me in that garden where we first met — under the tree with no name and leaves heavy with iron.

And together we’ll drink the venom that bleeds from the tree, and which turns Eden into a dying mire.

Then I, too, will get my wings and together we will fly. High into the heavens where mortals go to die.

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