Under the pale and sad moon

Under the pale and sad moon, her eyes pierce through illusions thin as parchment, igniting fears into flames that rise from the steel of her heart, and her trembling fingers reveal tears that flow like molten lead, struggling to gather the loosened shards of pride, dissipating into the whisper of the evening. She once believed that, in finding you, she had found her soulmate, never imagining that your hearts could ever drift apart. In words sharpened by love and hate, she cries out her suffering, watching her dreams unravel like waves crashing against forgotten shores. There is no innocent flirtation in the dance of fantasies; it is the first crack in the fragile glass of love. And the lies that overshadow it creep into hidden crevices, tipping the scales of happiness towards an inevitable collapse. Jealousy is a graceless dance, spinning around the glimmering flames of romance. Among the wavering shadows of betrayal, she stands with a pierced soul, dreaming almost extinguished of times when love was just a smooth flight. Messengers of longing, the stars speckle the high skies, reflecting a soul shattering into the embers of memories, and her sigh becomes an endless echo in the labyrinth of shadows deeply carved into her chest.