In the shadow of love, hatred blooms,
the pleasured dead roll in their hallowed tombs.
The curse of life is that it ends too soon,
the death of love was far too tragic.
Weeping tears of crystal under the moon,
her breast pulsated with devious black magic.
In a fit of envy, she made love to the dead,
her sanity hung from a ghostly thread.
She gave her soul for taboo love,
eternal sorrow or a life of hell.
As the ghost of her beloved took flight like a mourning dove,
she turned her ear from the chime of the bell.
With madness she would gladly dance,
to eulogies of a spectral romance.
YOU ARE READING
Nocturnal Lullabies (#Wattys2018 Winner)Poetry
Even within the deepest and most hideous depths of darkness, we may find a glimmer of beauty. Gothic, gloomy and macabre poetry. Featuring works inspired by phantoms, occultism, vampires, cursed maidens, tragic monsters and other haunting themes sur...