Lick the Ash from My Halo
She did not come down for mercy,
nor ascend in search of grace—Her wings were black from flame-kissed years,
latex slick on skin and face,
Each feather sharp with old desire, each sigh a testament to rage,
She grinned through holy slaughter, unafraid of fate or cage,
A starless saint with a pornographic glow, halo not golden but scarred and bent,
Each orgasm a heresy—each kiss,
a sacrament she never meant.He worshiped at the altar
where innocence bled into lust,
Tasting the soot on her tongue,
burning prayer in every thrust.Her hands remembered paradise,
her mouth just purged the guilt,
He knelt in fire and tasted ash, the kind that gods themselves had spilt.
Their bodies tangled where hymns had burned, shadows dancing on ruined glass,
The smell of sacred oils replaced by spit and sweat and cum
and gas.She licked his doubt, he bit her trust,
their moans corrupt as midnight’s sin,
No choir sang for those who watched,
just angels screaming deep within.He marked her collarbone with filth,
she scratched his chest in holy names,
The echo of old seraphim wept through every blasphemed claim.She dragged
him down through molten clouds, thighs tight around his throat,
He drank the cinders from her skin, his prayers a guttural,
choking note.There was no promise for tomorrow—only venom, spit, and flame,
Her halo fractured, glowing wrong, and every touch spelled out his name.
Redemption was a sick old joke, purity a fable worn too thin,
She offered him absolution, but only if he’d first lick the ash
and sin—Not with reverence, not for hope, but to taste the price of her decay,
To savor the burn, to swallow the stain,
and to come where angels lose their way.She burned her hymns with each command,
he wept desire in her bite,
Their climax a war on every page of scripture,
a riot in the light.No forgiveness waited in the sheets,
no God for those who broke their vows,
Just bodies begging, falling, clashing—nothing left but how.
He licked her halo till it vanished, till his tongue was raw and torn,
Till grace itself was just a flavor,
till shame and faith were both outworn.She pulled him deeper, lips unclean,
her thighs an altar dressed in night,
She crowned him king of desecration,
then damned him with delight.No angel ever fell for less,
none ever fell for more,
Than a mouth full of holy ashes and a faith fucked raw on the floor.
So let them say the light is sacred,
let them claim the heavens pure—She’ll spread her wings for hungry mouths,
and make him beg for more,Her halo bent, her tongue a curse,
her body gospel rot and bloom—Salvation never tasted
sweeterThan the ash of angelsAnd the dark inside her room.