3Dedicated to Amanda: Here's a poem for your hopeless romantic heart
The Bell's Toll
The paling moon shivers under the breeze
As the midnight bell toll sounds,
Reaching deep into the shadows of despair
Calling forth Death's forsaken.
One from the front,
The other graces forward as a mist
Solidifying only at the touch
Of the frigid caress of love's last prayer.
Hand in hand they meet,
Atop an emblem painted on the floor:
A weeping heart of blood,
Veiled in bristling thorns.
His evanescent arm wraps gingerly about her waist
As ever so softly she lays her head upon his shoulder.
Subtly they begin their sway,
As tears fall for eternity's latest count.
Together they grace nimbly the onyx floor,
The lamenting wind stirring their forms into rolling fog.
A final toll resounds about the room,
Their flesh draped digits intertwine all the tighter,
As a gentle cadence of crystal tears
Rain down upon the floor,
Echoing a smothered clash.
From the barrel Fate so dearly grasps
Rushes forth the hand-shaped metal,
Piercing first her heart
Then traveling deep into the cavern of his chest,
Blood to blood they join,
Dying once more amidst the blanket of night.
The bell tolls once,
A creeping breeze cleanses the crimson
Staining the floor of love's last dance.
By the fourth echo through the room,
A form transcends down onto the emblem
Greeted ever haltingly by a sweetened mist.
She lifts the edge of her ivory gown
Twirling lightly on her feet,
Gripping ever firmly to his hand,
Praying for fate to journey astray.
A soft click marks the time,
As the aim is made,
Yet tonight he smiles down upon her tears,
Tenderly wiping each diamond from her cheek.
He dips his bride to the ground,
Laying her down ever softly,
Before standing erect on top the thorn-veiled heart,
Grinning triumphantly
As Death's harsh grip entraps his soul.
The paling moon shivers under the breeze
As the midnight bell tolls,
Calling forth once more the damned,
Yet tonight,
A change occurs,
As one translucent form
Meets with one of flesh
Upon an emblem of an efflorescent heart.
She lays her head softly upon his shoulder,
As gingerly he grips her delicate form.
Together they sway
Mocking the bitter wind with their movements.
A final toll resounds about the room
Its high-pitched chimes
Mirroring the joy of two lovers,
Fate's own pawns,
As living dances with the dead.