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♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ╰┈➤ ❝to please you, i would invent god if i had to.❞
She fled in glory.
Maybe fear.
In an utter impenetrable state of grief, something so soul crushing her heart lept from behind her ribs and fell into her hands. There was no use for it any longer, an empty piece of pulsating flesh, a crimson sun in her starless night.
The one shadow she knew slipped into the darkness, and once again merged with the teeming impossibility of hate.
Maybe she didn't hold her heart at all, maybe it lay within his hands. And the only reason for its continuing to beat, is because of his morbid desire to hold her frame and coo away the nightmare he put before her.
The sun had risen and the clarity of her doom, hung low against her eyes. She slunk in the crevices of the city, while dusk met dawn and gave it a kiss goodbye. Hankering in corners like the thief she is, but so grieved she wished to melt and join the forsaken puddles her feet embraced.
Morana was lost.
She'd lost her life, not to say a singular man granted her that. But the oppression of loneliness was lifted for a cycle of the moon, and that wretched eclipse brought with it this heinously beautiful tragedy.
She'd left the shadowy man amongst the stars, he may rot there for all she cared. That's what she hoped for anyway, an eternal carcass of regret shining so bright down for her that it's light may permeate it's way through centuries. And so maybe when she's mulled over her wasteful life, she'd look upon that weary star and join him.
After all she's no angel herself.
They were both terrifyingly similar, sweet devils love kindred company. And that's what they were ; sinners.
This goes to say it's not petty crime she's willing to confess, it's something so outrageous it would shock the cosmos into silence. And the one man she now scorns, would detest her rotting soul with abhorrent eyes. It would be the carcass of her conscious that may lay upon the galaxies scattered so intricately, her executioner would do it himself.
Dawn brought with it grace.
A wave of epiphany striking each haunted soul into a belief that they could change, belts of hope shrouded melancholic eyes tinting spite with forgiveness. But when that hour was up the dull dew of mid morning sauntered in and took a seat beside them, forever ushering their seldom crimes. And because of this, hope seeped away like clouds ushering away on the breeze.
