Elegy for the Beautiful and Damned Two silhouettes in a burning cathedral, The girl cloaked in fur, soft and cruel, The boy dressed sharp as broken glass.
Their eyes don’t meet, But the night crashes in between them— An untold confession scratched into chrome. Outside, the dark hums like a slow funeral, Streetlights flicker as if in mourning.
Here, beauty drips like fresh paint, A moment teetering on the edge, Forever perfect, forever ruined. And you, watching through the foggy pane, Feel the weight of the dream— Cold, crimson, fleeting.
