I Love You ... to Death

I Love You … to Death


Deep in the South, ‘round New Orleans,
a place known for its Voodoo queens,
come tales of curses, fraught with dread
affecting those alive … and dead.

A Cajun boy, from the swamps, came
to seek his fortune and his fame
but Fate had other plans in mind.
As oft’ the case, it was not kind.

He met her on a moon lit night.
For him, it was love at first sight
Though she was promised, she returned
his love; her obligation spurned.

Her jilted groom, an evil man,
was livid but he had a plan.
A Voodoo priest was called upon
to seal their doom before the dawn.

Nothing could heal his wounded pride -
a curse was placed. That night they died
but not the love each other gave
for it survived beyond the grave.

The lovers, buried secretly,
were hidden, lost to history.
Their names were stricken from all roles;
the curse extended to their souls.

The curse still hangs, like Spanish Moss,
unbroken by prayers or the cross
except … each year on lover’s eve
the gods allow them a reprieve.

“Cities of the Dead” they’re called,
with mausoleums and tombs walled
to keep the spirits from their home
for spirits, as we know, will roam.

The lover’s bones arise from graves
well hidden in deep silent caves;
for just this night they live again
as love assuages all their pain.

They touch, they dance, and as before,
they whisper of their love once more
without sadness or regret.
They willingly pay passion’s debt.

So, should you pass by in the night
and see them, don’t react with fright.
It is a blessing, none too small,
to know that love can conquer all.

An entry for the February round of "Invalid Item" 
Prompt: Image (see cover art)
Form: Quatrains  
Line Limit: 60
Line Count: 44