Blood.
Rich, dark blood,
flowing through her shimmering fair hair
Coloring fair blonde strands
With a scarlet hue
Coloring pale pink lips
With red drops that trickled down her porcelain skin.
Face upturned
Hands clasping her beating heart
She let her eyelids drop closed
Into an endless void of darkness
As she stayed silent
Unloving
And dead in her own way.
He lay before her
Covered in malicious crystals
That grinned
As they ****** his life out of him
Killing the already dying light
Gripping him.
His eyes were unfocused
His lips trembling
His hands freezing
With the Grim Reaper's gaze
trained upon him.
Yet she shut off all thoughts
and simply looked to the light
And let the crystals
take him away from her.
She was hoping for something else
Something more
But in the end,
All she got
Was furious green eyes
looking into her own
As the glint of a freshly made sword
with its elegantly shaped metal
and brilliantly crafted spirit
Flitted across her vision
Tearing her blonde strands
Ripping her fair skin
Slicing her fair lips
Slitting her slender throat
As she was colored with new blood
In a brighter shade.
Before the blood that dripped over her didn't belong to her.
But this time,
It Did.

Worn leaves in the shade of orange, yellow and red
Swaying in the warm autumn breeze
Dancing
Living
Laughing
At their misery.
The season was about to end,
and so were their rich colors.
The light streamed through the lush canopies,
painting an eerie scene
As the golden streaks
Of lovely bright lights
Were cast upon the hulking dark shadows
That held countless memories lost.
The shadows stood gloomy and calm
Not saying a single word
Yet holding a thousand words of another.
They let birds rest on them
Leaves blow past them
And the wind caress them.
They stood unloving
Solemn and dull.
A small innocent shadow
wearing a red candy coat
skipped to the edge
Of the large wrought-iron gate
and drew it open with a creak that echoed through the courtyard
As she took a small step forward
and hurried towards a stone.
Out of her leather satchel
she drew
Roses.
Of the purest color
A fair shade
That had a single drop of red
Cracking the beautiful glass
that was the clear smooth white
Her pale slender hands
Gave the fair flowers
To the stone
As if to say
'I am wistful.
I am filled with innocent pain.
I shouldn't be here now
At this minute and at this hour,
So let's keep this a secret.'
She stood and ran away
With a single cross
Watching her leave through the gate.