Eclipsed Hearts

He was born from the sigh between creation and sin,
A flame too proud to die,
A name the dark kept secret,
Lest the light might love it.
 
They called him the Impaler,
Breaker of wings,
Judge of the damned,
The storm that sang in iron.
Yet beneath the armor of wrath
Slept a silence,
The kind only loneliness teaches.
 
Through centuries of fire he walked,
Blade in hand,
Heart closed as a tomb.
He sought meaning in conquest,
And found only his own name
Carved into the bones of the fallen.
 
And then, She came.
 
An angel in mortal disguise,
With eyes pale as remembrance,
And a voice that trembled
Like the first note of a dying prayer.
Her wings carried the scent of forgotten dawn,
And when she smiled,
He remembered what warmth once meant.
 
He was forged to hate her.
She was sworn to destroy him.
Yet love,
That most exquisite rebellion,
Blooms best in ruins.
They met beneath a city’s wounded sky,
Neon tears and mortal stars,
And in that fragile twilight,
He laid down Rebellion,
The blade that had split heaven once before.
 
“Are you not afraid?” She whispered.
He answered,
“Only of peace.”
 
For every touch was a sin,
And every heartbeat, a prayer.
They learned that love,
When born of opposites,
Is not tender,
It is tragic,
And it devours gently.
 
When heaven found them,
The stars wept themselves pale.
When hell came for him,
The flames bowed in silence.
They stood together—
Not as angel or demon,
But as proof that even damnation
Can be beautiful when shared.
 
And when the world tore them apart,
Time itself turned its face away.
For there are some stories
That the divine cannot bear to watch,
Only remember.
 
Now the night recalls them in fragments:
A sigh in the wind,
A glint in the blade,
A feather turned to ash.
 
    “She fell in love with him the day she was sent to end him.
    And he…
    He found salvation in the sin of her touch.”
 
Their love was a wound the universe could not close.
And in its bleeding,
Something holy was born.