but there's a thinner ribbon; between the tresses of dance and the armor of battle.

in their arena, art and death are so nervously, hopelessly entwined they become one.

and although each step hurt like Ariel's daggers on toes,

it's a competition to the finish,

and still the trophy goes to none.

for in this battle, they know not, ignorantly, what they are fighting for...

for a utopia, for a haven, for justice, for a conclusion.

but it's for and because of a heart, stolen, wrapped and in the end, returned, that they both do not see yet feel.

looks, even when seen through Death's Eyes can deceive, and even a shinigami can be deceived by feelings.

who knew, not even god, that they introduced another opponent into the battlefield?

so love and death sat together, brothers, side by side, in the battle yet on the sidelines. Waiting for the other, to finally be recognized at the end of this all. one would lose and the other would fall. one would win at a price, the other would fall with a gain, and both would happen to neither.

it was in, out, up, down, a never ending struggle for something that both their aliases realized, once when their eyes dropped their masks for a impossible moment, & once when they lay in each other's arms, dying both at the same time.

and that impossible moment, i fear, was when they both died.










[you should have fallen, Raito.

why delay the inevietable.]






(poem probably to be revised)