There he stood outside the windowsill waiting for the wind
to whisper in her ears, his soft call of her name
heed the faceless man, and there he stood, outside the windowsill.

Her soul awakens and her hand in her chin
fresh from the bathe of her blood. There Avernus and
faceless, standing outside her chamber waiting for the woman to fall asleep.

The faceless man then wanting to reside by her side,
softly lulling her into death, prickling her thumb with a needle of life and death
through the parallel of his world and hers — there he stood waiting for his muse.

He grows slowly and deeply, his stomach churning; savoring
her blood in his mind, he waits until she falls asleep.

Her eyes wandered through the thin port outside her room —
the trees harshly peering through her window,
it is as if, they were telling dark tales in the midnight dawn of the night.
Avernus then sang in his native tongue; his muse terrified at the sight of him yet there was
comfort between the wind and the chilly night outside her window.

“It’s cold outside, why are you standing there?” She called out.

**** or a lie?
You're drowning in manipulation's waters
Fake your smile. Lie.
I know your nightly tears are a fact
One you can't deny
A fake smile is pointless
We all decieve nonetheless  
We're our own fatal mistake

Your early heat nudging my back
The coldness floods this impatient day
Made brittle in the breaking Dawn
Soften when the biting wind blows ice away

Up in the sky
Moon was shivering
In the dark winter night

While offered her
The covering
Guess
What radiate in her eyes?

Shyness
A beautiful shy
Writing happened to me
Witnessing her glimpse of smile

Even with
The bright Sun
Sometimes
We feel
Somedays
Are colder than
The others

No coverings
No coffee
Neither the fire
Nor any liquor
Makes you, feel warm

Probably that time
Could be the season
Of  blue