Bridges burned,
no turning back.
The night --
our sanctuary --
claimed its toll.
Sense or senseless?
The choice was
   ours --
risks were weighed
on whatever scale
our conscience
   held;
and so too was weighed
the value of our sin...
Rain fell hard
against a scene
black as our souls --
a lonely light
glowed: ghostly
   as our fate.
Whispers sealed
our pact in hell.
What we did
would bind us tight --
no guilt...and no
   redemption.