A/N: id nearly forgotten this lil scrap, archived over at Poetry(dot)com. written ages ago after first getting into PotO and experiencing something vaguely similar to what Erik went through with Christine
Death of the Nightingale
Your smile was my breath.
Your laugh, my heart.
I never thought you would leave.
My eternal cry.
This phantom love haunts my soul,
whispers of dreams and wishes,
but fades the moment I believe.
And so do I.