A/N: This isn't too good, it just flushed to my mind, just don't care about it, but maybe you could review it?

I don't own the Phantom, nor Madame Giry.

Evenings in the Catacombs

I knock on your door

But there's no reply

The darkness cries with me

And knocks and knocks

In my head

You're there

All the time

Your eyes

I bent down to sleep
Alone, in my catacombs


By monsters of my phantasy

They taught me how to sing

They taught me how to break

They taught me how to destroy

But not how to love

That, my Madame,

Was you with your

Warm eyes and your voice

And, finally

The darkness catches me

I will never tell you

Never relief my aching soul

Because you're worth more

Than my scars can give

I wish you a good night

Full of soft sleep

And hope that someday

You will find your love, your dream

Alive, in the present