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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Gothic · #908271
My love for her went past death....
The sun is rising
inevitable as all tragedy
but No! I will be with her before it has arisen
just as promised
will take place

she had been walking through woods
in moonlit splendor
Picking roses in all of her candor
and singing a rhyme she had concocted
of my promise
of the consumption of our love that very night
and the creatures of the night
watched aghast
At her beauty unsurpassed
And of her solemnity
As if she knew what was to become of her

The whispering wind ran cruel fingers through her hair
Pitch black matched the tone of that very night
but the moon was high
and all was alight

but she never saw them
it’s very strange
witch that she was
no premonition came
and they robbed her with there holy verses
of the virgin nymph she used to be

Called her a whore with prejudice screamed
And she took it all with silent tears
fearful of why it was
And then it was all over
the pain ended in a flash of taffeta pink
All I had was robbed from me

not only had they taken her
they raped me
in my mind there was no peace

I found them attempting to hide their wrong
but they would not leave without judgment
No holy light came to them
So I took matters into my own hands...

And here I am
laying with my love
And she still sings the same sorrowful eulogy
And I have my knife
With Christian blood still running down it

It now has mine
And now I see her
she’s not dead
but surely alive
And we are together
Fingers interlaced
In a wondrous ominous place
Where love can’t keep us apart
Nor can heaven’s fear
And nothing matters but dead love’s tragic embrace
© Copyright 2004 The Vampire Armand (armand at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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