It Was Always Enough

Retreating in covers and closing the curtains

One thing's for certain, oh

xXx

Luna is dead.

The plush, luxurious sheets envelop him, the gentle light shining through the window glittering as it passes through silken curtains, casting the room in a warm, comforting glow. For all intents and purposes, this room should feel safe, far removed from conflict of days prior.

But the leather-bound journal by his side is proof of the blood which blossomed forth on her simple white dress, and he cannot bear to look at it. There is more writing inside which he has yet to read- words of faith, encouragement, love.

He cannot bear to look at it- not yet.