Author's Note: Well, I've just been horribly writer's block-y as of late, and it's killing me. So . . . yes, felt randomly poetic in a weird, horribly over-dramatic way, and I'm going through Ff.N posting withdrawals, so . . . this would be the result. Yay. This would be an English teacher's worst nightmare on twelve and a half different levels - just a forewarning.

Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge isn't mine - I'd buy it, 'cept I'm saving up fifteen bucks so I can get this really nifty empty Pringles can from Storm. And, well, who in their right mind would choose MR over that? What can I say? I am a girl who knows how to prioritize.

decay.

satine satine satine and he said it fifty thousand times, in words disconnected, disenchanted, a million puzzle pieces pulled apart and scattered across the sea. and maybe he couldn't have her anymore, and red looked like grey and it was all so very strange, a world without her. ha ha. funny, really, he hadn't known her for so long, for twenty-three years he'd lived without her and he'd still been able to smile but now it was impossible like stars that sang and words that meant forever.

he couldn't remember anymore. come what may, or was it come what might, stars and storms and it all ran together in one endless stream of giggles and diamonds and hair that was red like blood, no, not blood, he didn't like to think of blood because then the fire consumed him so dark so many flames dancing, sultry, red red red not red. grey.

grey.

he drinks too much, he knows he does, and maybe if she were still here she would tell him, very softly, not to. "oh, christian, don't, it's so foul." and sometimes he thinks he hears her, but it's only the wind or maybe the memories that are eating away at him, driving him mad.

he is decaying, and he cannot stop it, will not stop it, because if darkness swallows him at least he'll battle hell with her.

with her, with her, with her, and he sings it like an amber song, when the night is cold and he shivers and somewhere the angels watch him and sigh, oh so wistfully, because he used to be such a very nice boy until her.