a prelude of some kind

P.S. I wish I never loved you. Oh how I wish -Delilah

He burned like the sun, blazing from the tips of her fingers to her toes. He was like a weed that entangled her obtruding ribcage, intertwining her lungs, drawing out every ounce of breathe. She was the colour of the small hours, those periods of transformation that separated sombre from divine. She lived for the shadows of darkness and stalked beneath the immortality of the moon. She was sublime. But even the wildest spirits find their way behind gilded bars noticing, only, when it's to late. Because nobody is invincible, despite their belief to the contrary.