We had perfection, But we let it go, Now all that’s left for us Is a slow descent into hell. By R.L.Sharpe.

The Angel. A poem.

His wings are battered, battered and broken, broken he falls, falls from the sky, the sky that is darkening, darkening like his insides. His insides are shattered, shattered to his heart, his heart is battered, battered and broken, broken like his wings. His wings fail and he falls, falls from the sky, dejected.


we may all speak different languages, but pain is universal and tears are spoken by all. (A micro-poem by Rochelle Sharpe.) 


Sadness creeps into my eyes, clamps around my heart, clings to my chest, crawls under my skin, turning me cold. (A micro poem by R.L.Sharpe.)


If my world falls apart, will your arms be strong enough to hold me together? (A micropoem by R.L.Sharpe.)


I fell head first crazy fast into the hole inside your heart. (A micro poem by Rochelle Sharpe.)