Maybe you’re an angel who hit a low branch or ignored the direction back to your realm, causing your wings to fall off. Since that time, you have been painting over your white robes with black matte, taking on the mantle of a bird of prey. You pick at my decaying brain, sipping the infection out through my ears, all while whispering for me to remain strong and resist the gloom. You have helped me to remove that vile carrion from my psyche, scratching and digging with sharpened talons deep into my marrow. I have come to understand your true objectives, not as a portent of the apocalypse, but as a guardian. I can see that enlivening glow from your core shining through your eyes—that area you could not cover.
Nick Romeo
When Nick Romeo is not at his nine-to-five occupation which is strongly situated in the STEM fields, he passes the time with his wife, cats, and his art creations. His main forms of expression are 3D digital renderings, electronic music, writing, sewing, and photography. Nick's latest chapbook, titled Empyrean Fog Machines, was released by Back Room Poetry.