Bourbon Angels

Twenty-five hundred miles.
Sleep now,

Please dream tonight.

Climbing inside her slumber,

Precisely what she wants.

Something terrible removed her peace.

The morning, four o'clock,

Search for innocence inside.

Disgusting world,

A war before her body.

Pinned orchids frown, upset.

Bourbon angels shot her.

It's prison, concave.

Power, its comfort.

Her skin, her hands, wet with moonlight.

Pelvic bones pink,

Hot water holding her body.

This belief bloomed.

Thought challenged.

One night, one word.

Ruined.

Reviews

[zainul]

A write from the heart.
You may check the spelling here:"Borbon angels shot her."

[Whitney Kleinhuizen]

Thank you :) I corrected it

[zainul]

You are appreciated :)