There once was a girl with crimson eyes and haunting black hair.

She was owned by the night, danced in the stars twilight.

Her smile was calming, her demeanor chillingly pure.

But no one knew her, no one but the moon’s waning eyes.

For she had become an outcast from her once perfectly crafted life.

She stayed in the dark where none could see her, hid from all things familiar.

That’s why she became friends with the night.

It knew her but never truly _saw_ her.

It got glimpses, but never asked for more.

Even though in her heart she desperately wanted more.

Even if she wouldn’t admit that she did to anyone but her shadows dark reflection.

She wanted to feel love maybe even hatred if it meant she felt at all.

She wanted a friend, someone to trust.

But nonetheless the night was the closest thing to a friend she allowed herself to have.

She wanted more but she didn’t think she deserved it.

She knew what she used to be, and she didn’t want to be judged for what she had become.

And so every day without fail she danced when the sun went away, and the rain started pouring down.

Her dances were slow and majestic each move perfectly thought out.

A princess of the dark.

The rain would hound on her, but still she persisted.

The wind wisped around her body, the closest she came to human touch.

Each day played out the same and as it did her mind fogged and the world around her darkened.

She needed to escape.

She ran into the morning fog, played with her truest heat, and danced with her thoughts.

The fog hid truths, but still it was dauntingly perfect.

“Twisting shades fade to one, hiding all whom can’t be loved.”

She heard the melody echo through the fogs morning mist.

Another human was here, another life, another soul, and hopefully it was a girl just like her twisted and tattered, haunted and lonely, destroyed and searching for anything but the emptiness of nothing.

Their face was unknown but their presence was felt.

And so she echoed back another verse of the same sad song.

“The moons eye darkens when friendships die.”

Her heart was racing, and she felt the sun on her back for the first time in a long time.

The fog was still a mask but close enough to connection that she could last maybe another day or two, maybe more if she truly wanted to.

And yes the night still called to her.

She would find herself still dancing in the rain some nights in her slow methodical rhythm that she had grown so accustomed to.

A trance she had memorized.

But now she had the fog, a place, a home to run back to.