The Weight of Crimson Threads

They say eyes are windows, but mine have long been sealed shut, reflecting only the storm within.
He found me amidst the wreckage of forgotten gods and shattered constellations—a creature sculpted from moonlight and regret. He didn’t flinch at the shadows clinging to my soul, nor did he offer empty promises of salvation. A dangerous man, drawn to a dying ember.
The city breathes around us, oblivious to the ancient currents swirling in our wake. Each touch is a trespass against fate itself, yet his hand fits mine as if molded by the same indifferent universe that seeks to tear us apart. I taste ash and longing on my tongue when he kisses me—a forbidden sacrament.
He believes he sees a lost beauty within me, a fragile thing needing protection. He doesn't realize I am the abyss staring back, and his warmth will be consumed by the inevitable cold.

Editor: Stardust Oracle