I feel for thee,
My worn beauty.
Your frail, and vivid form,
Shows likeness to me.
I find destiny, itching to see,
The most heinous parts of us,
Broken together, we are soon among death,
Failing to remember, beneath bated breath.
And your eyes!
They revealed the most sickening heartache.
You died, with your love entwined,
Vast in the many folds, of your long dress.
Torn and ragged, now at your legs.
As long as tails, alike to your bleak tress.
I see thee, wrapped in a box,
Beneath the eyes of priests.
I approach so gracefully,
And see thee, before thee died.
Tears drain from my somber eyes,
Like words from where these priests lie.
You were the devil that lashed my back,
And they treat you like Heaven.
Disembowel me one more time,
For my steps are lacking,
My eyes cannot see, anymore.
Where was our love?
Had it even begun?
Where did you stray,
When an illness struck upon thy frail form?
I still love,
Though, not enough,
Because, you have died,
And I am alive.