Anzelya

Knock on the door, sound ripping apart, burning the floor, grasping his heart. Echoes of pain all wiped from mind, yanking his chain, the contract is signed. Living on hope of a whiff of her hair, in darkness to grope, for someone to care. Dream turns real, his head on her chest, wishing to heal, hoping to rest. She kisses his head, he breathes her scent, but now she is dead, time well spent. All that is left he had before, pain deeply cleft and more to pour. Her lingering feel forever reminding, the Devil's deal in suffering binding.