𝕊𝔼𝔸𝕊𝕆ℕ 𝕆ℕ𝔼

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𝕀ℕ midnight's grasp, where silence weaves,
A cursed heart, a witch believes.
He walks in dusk, with ghosts in tow,
She dances where the nightshades grow.

His voice—like raven's whispered lore,
Her touch—a curse he'd beg for more.
The moon may wane, the stars may die,
Yet in her spell, he's bound to lie.

No sacred vow, no light divine,
Just darkened love in twisted twine.
Let fate recoil, let heavens burn,
For her, he'd never dare return.

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By: SilverMist707