The flame in her heart
Ignites a spite to reach in,
In her he seeks not her soul
To kiss…like a scarlet rose her
Luscious lips are he doesn't see.
At night she cries for his eternal embrace,
In the night she dies,
She dreams she died because her
Heart stopped beating…
Her cold soul drowns in the agony
Of what is left of her.
She falls as misery gnaws her soul's
Mortal feel of a deep silent devotion,
He shows remorse as he jeers at her
Broken figurine as she wanders seeking
For an epica to her nightmare,
In the dark she kisses the sores of her
Soul and bites off the cancer of her heart,
Slowly she heals.
Her mind bares the empty streets she walks,
Like a hawk she flies away to kiss the wreath
That garnish the grave she now calls home.
In her lies a spell to sway the ghost of fury
That disturbs her night.
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