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In a Dance of Fate
Her Ink Sculpted My Oblivion beneath the Embrace of Twilight
As I stood on the precipice of oblivion, I whispered to the indifferent skies, “I shall embrace death before the moon peeks.” I fancied myself to melt away as the dust storm swooped in. Once, I was the cherished knight, the sharp blade in the ruthless battle, dubbed the lion in hushed whispers. But she came along, wild and untamed, yet with a face that hinted at a clandestine tenderness.
With each rendezvous, she drained me of my righteous vendetta, drinking from the chalice of my spirit, reveling in the intoxication of our ill-fated union. As she danced with shadows in the moonlight, she stole my essence yet bestowed upon me a haunting allure of love’s tempest. A tempest that swept across my barren heart like a relentless gust of wind, hurling my existence into a whirlpool of desires unspoken, fears unveiled.
I, the lion, was reduced to the meek reflection in her eyes. Once the ruler of my wild realm, I now found myself enslaved to the rhythm of her whims. She brought with her a celestial twilight that engulfed my daylight and plunged my radiant dreams into a realm of ash and whispering echoes. Now, only a fleeting silhouette against the twilight, I, too, wished to dissipate, to blend with the evanescing embers of the day.
