Silent tombstones; sentinels of stone

You stand among them,

My little gypsy king.

We vowed;

To be buried on the hillside.

Away from the chapel,

And the God who hates us.

I have killed you, you tell me.

But it is you who have killed me.

Or maybe, or mayhap;

We have killed each other.

For you are my life and my soul,

No one can separate us;

Not even stingy,

Unfeeling,

Death.

I love you, though you are my murderer.

You stood in my garden,

Waiting for the windows to open;

My silent consent.

We exchanged those whispers;

Impassioned love.

And when you left I could not live.

Do you remember me, your dear Catherine,

Now that I'm underground?

My gypsy king, your eyes filled;

With emotion—raw and sweet.

As you hid and wept;

Ripped your skin to see the blood.

I heard your prayer,

Your cry to me.

Yes, my love,

The murdered haunt their murderers;

I shall drive you mad;

Haunt you until you shut those demonic eyes

And die.

I will haunt you, lest you lose me to the abyss.

Nothing will separate us.

You are my life, and I am yours.

Cruel Heathcliff, I am yours.

And once you stood;

Waiting for my window to open.

Now, I claw.

And I long to open yours.

Take me back;

Bring me back into my world.

I'd been lost,

I'm come home; Let me in!

Cruel Lockwood, cruel Heathcliff;

It's cold on the moor—

Let me in.

---

A/N: i got inspired to write this while reading Wuthering Heights again. The Bronte sisters have become my most admired writers. a few references to the book. it's not very good, but enjoy anyways.