My eyes were traipsing all across the room, my irked nose was lined with all its corroded details and the charred, foul smell of blood. Where my hands are firmly cradled and the sky is peeking through the cracked window. Am I hopeless?

"Just call my name on the edge of the night," My ears wobbled to the melancholy raspy voice of a man telling me before he faded away. I remember him grinning and caressing the tip of my nose, yet I couldn't open my pursed lips. "Call me and I'll run to you," His voice erupted throughout the house. It was like his plump lips were meeting my ears' tips."I really can't!" I whispered. You are too far, Sky.

I let my eyes wander through their blurry sight through the starless horizon from which the eclipse was striding into the darkness. The moon is serenading the hurricane, and the gusts of wind whistle and spin, blowing chill bumps through my bones.

Rapidly, a familiar sensation surged through my body—my eyes fixed on a spot where I was in the center of the forest, where the flowers were blooming as I sauntered by. I traced my fingertips and remembered that he pulled the flower and ended up dead on his bare fingers.

"You know that whatever you touch, it dies?" A faint chuckle I let out. He gazes his eyes into mine, penetrating through my soul, allowing me to drown in his mirror-less eyes. giving me a new illusion of myself, securing me in a sacred paradise. The thunder roared like a thirsty lion. He held my hand, and slowly, he vanished and burned into grey ashes.

Where the sky contains a fraction of truth and the heavens have got a hold of time, where the underworld brings chaos and chaos grants powers to mortals. Where he is Sky, eventually named after Death. Where he is mine and there in him lies the future. Where neither gods nor goddesses can intervene. where I could no longer call him "Sky." Only his lingering parts could I hang on to. I closed my eyes and waited for the downpours of the rain. When there is chaos, there is still time. When questions remain unanswered, there is the sky, awaiting your call. When there is existence, there's him, Death. We flew in the sky and he dropped into the lake of lies, and that's when I knew the truth: the gift of chaos is the heavenly realms. And so is the past. And then, there, I locked my eyes with him and, like a phoenix, my soul was greedy for freedom and him, the death of the mirror-less sky.

The present.

The future.

The memories.

The loss.

There he goes
scraping his last worn-out scars
gripping the tune of
his harsh breathing
could've been if he was
the brave man
he ever showed.

Harmonized with his rusty guitar
sang an unfamiliar lullaby
hummed in different tones,
as he silently uttered a profanity
and there goes him,
let out a clamor
no one will ever heed.

As his visions turned blurry,
the fussing rasps of his voice
can only be grasped
by the mist of death
and there he goes,
sang a weeping lullaby
beside him was the woman
who so abode with eternal chaos.

And then together, a wayfarer
amid the longing dawn,
the sun shall never rise again.
From the tune of the brave man,
he quieted the chattering misery of
the goddess of the night.