A cold rush, heated breathe.

Catering to the midnights heart.

A faulty raven with poisen words.

Sends away a deep despair.

Icy liquid down my throat.

A lone comet, disheavened bird.

The magic summer night is gone,

in the dampening of your words.

You're my raven to my swan.

The wings of a bottled saviour.

This desire made of hurt.

A slanted glass, begging wings.

It descends to my lips,

your swan falls to the floor,

as the bottle rolls off my finger tips.