A/N - Written using a prompt thing.
The night falls in a heavy, suffocating cloak,
cold and alone are we.
The hope for which you lust flares once, then dies,
devoured by a velvet ebon nothingness.
I know your soul thrives no more.
The light has sickened and died.
How could you abandon me?
Angels surround us, crying.
Save us from ourselves.