The Muse

Tonight, there would be such a beautiful bleeding, torn open and laid bare, raw and untamed. She would give him everything… fire and spirit and blood… Herself. 

A willing destruction. 

When morning comes, there will be nothing but ashes and embers, burnt shards of who she was before… remnants of a life used to keep him, breathing and alive and dreaming. 

Ashes are better served at dawn and she would rise, only to burn again, night after night after night… If only to remind him of hope once more. 


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