Out of all the things she’s lost she lose the control of the night the most.
She was rid of her sight that catches all the obsidian imaginations that refuse to have mercy on her ebony eyes.
The shades as ravens sneak up on her from the places she’s never been.
They lied, they concealed, they burdened her with jade weight of loud silence.
They calmed her down every night whispering soothing sable dreams.
But every morning they disappear and bid her good night with a soot-stained kiss.