you, who knows all. you, who has committed every despicable deed i can think of.

you, who shields an eroded heart with weapons you have created, crowded by barbs tipped with ghastly poison.

you are one of the fallen, one of the forsaken.

you whisper to me a forbidden covenant, and it is

a plan that you never would have devised. however, it is your duty to keep your word, though i cannot rely upon the devil's word.

It is so easy to trust you, to fall into your trap,

but you do not use that to your advantage. not with me.

your wings are tattered and lacking. they are sleek, black pillars of fire,

but they are charred, too, bits and pieces bearing the wounds. that was the consequence of your betrayal, and you took it in stride. you have been reduced to rubble,

and by taking on my burden, it shoves you deeper into the ground. but somehow, you deem me worthy of your own foolhardy expiration.

it will do, you say. your wings still function. you know where i need to go, but you have not ventured so far in the dozens of millennia you've been here. of course, you have never dared until now, and part of me wonders if you waited for me to ask.

so long you would have waited.

(bated breath. rosy cheeks. heart thumping. do you remember those things?)