It was only the moon that revealed a pit of despair. An oxygen breath of no hope.
Lingered, murky the mist of solitude and deep cavern farewells.
The heart beats in tar blood.
Purist dark lips, sidekicked by eyes bullet coal black.
Piercing.
Chimes distant echoes of foot lite,
as present as the heavy still mist water.
A few strands, only a few...whistle lightly like amateur times.
It is not in this moment of Adrian Von Ziegler that she looks forward,
But in the precious dark seconds for why she looks back.