Poetry

You had the numbers. 
The reverse trends begins- 
with uneasy and dark ambush. 
 
A fatal miscue. You 
will get the message. 
The fingerprints will stay on the wall. 
 
Enduring the onslaughts. 
Remaining sky-clad I 
will wander in your arms. 
 
Fighting with the curves, 
on sleepy islands, will 
you hail my outstanding landing? 
 
The revelation has a price. 
You will not open the envelope 
till I am dead.