I awoke in a place where two worlds meet.
I lay upon dirt and stone, a barren wasteland behind me.
Ahead lay an eternal field of flowers, a rainbow in the sky—
when there had been no rain—
reflecting the myriad colors of the endless pasture of petals below.
Before me stood a figure
at the edge of the field where the worlds of dirt and verdure clash.
She was my princess from times long past.
I stood and gazed at her, amidst that sea of serenity,
standing proud and elegant, her head adorned
by a wreath of flower petals,
a soft smile pulling at the ends of her cherry lips.
Her hair, long and golden, dazzled with its own light,
forever shaming our sun. A white rose, each petal trimmed
with a gentle pink, lay languidly on her ear,
the burning brilliance of her hair swallowing the stem.
A sensual white satin draped down from her shoulders, fitting slim
around her slender waist, curving dangerously down her legs.
All that dared to show were her toes, strong and bold and tipped with blue,
the sky at her feet.
With her pale skin, enchanting under the sun,
she was an ivory, transient, ghost of my memory.
I timidly reached towards the roses that guarded her right side
and picked one from where it stood.
It seemed a disgraceful gift, yet it was all I could give.
With it was my love, such a thing as could make mud beautiful.
I held it towards her, my heart in my hands.
She reached slowly and grasped the top of the stem with her left,
and held the end of the stem in her right.
In the middle of the stem lay a single thorn. Curious, as no other
rose bore any thorn at all.
My pale princess from times long past held my token of love to her nose,
the delicate rose petals tenderly touching her cherry lips.
With her smile still in place, she softly severed the head of petals.
She put the stem in her mouth, gently licking the wound she had just inflicted,
but to this I paid no mind.
I longed to touch her hair, to again know an angel.
As the rose petals fell dead and scattered at her feet,
I held my hand as close as I could dare.
I snatched away my hand as a viper violently struck.
The beautiful head of gold was now a head of snakes.
At once, our poor sun shattered and fell from the sky.
The thick, slithering, slick skin of the snakes shone,
her pale skin enhanced by a silver sliver of the moon in the sudden darkness.
A grotesque beauty.
With her gentle smile set in stone,
as if carved upon her by a most loving, and most hateful hand,
she took the stem from her mouth and twirled it in her fingers.
She raised her arm as if to strike, and, accompanied by a bursting thunderbolt,
hurled at me the stem of the rose with a single thorn.
The stem, tipped with a wicked poison from her beautiful tongue,
struck straight and true through my heart.
Creep was the poison, and creep the poison did.
I gazed in wonder and silence at my princess as anguish spread through my veins.
The eternal field of flowers erupted in black flames, yet my princess was untouched.
She stayed standing at the edge of her inferno,
her heart-wrenching blue eyes
watching stonily as I fell to my humble floor of dirt and stone.
The stem raised out of my chest as a pole,
with the single thorn, a flag of hatred, planted deep into my soul.
On my back, with my head slightly turned,
I watched her vanish into her dark conflagration.
She was gone into the fiery night.
Without a word, she left a message of
my banishment forever from her sight.
With her went all the light, the moon shone no more,
and the stars never were.
I could not see but could feel the fierce fire,
the intense heat nothing near the force of her ire.
I lay broken on the dirt, crying in such a rage of sorrow as I’ve never known,
with the knowledge that I would die with despair in my heart.
Amidst my cries of agony, her chiseled face came back to me, hauntingly...
“My princess…”
I lay upon dirt and stone, a barren wasteland behind me.
Ahead lay an eternal field of flowers, a rainbow in the sky—
when there had been no rain—
reflecting the myriad colors of the endless pasture of petals below.
Before me stood a figure
at the edge of the field where the worlds of dirt and verdure clash.
She was my princess from times long past.
I stood and gazed at her, amidst that sea of serenity,
standing proud and elegant, her head adorned
by a wreath of flower petals,
a soft smile pulling at the ends of her cherry lips.
Her hair, long and golden, dazzled with its own light,
forever shaming our sun. A white rose, each petal trimmed
with a gentle pink, lay languidly on her ear,
the burning brilliance of her hair swallowing the stem.
A sensual white satin draped down from her shoulders, fitting slim
around her slender waist, curving dangerously down her legs.
All that dared to show were her toes, strong and bold and tipped with blue,
the sky at her feet.
With her pale skin, enchanting under the sun,
she was an ivory, transient, ghost of my memory.
I timidly reached towards the roses that guarded her right side
and picked one from where it stood.
It seemed a disgraceful gift, yet it was all I could give.
With it was my love, such a thing as could make mud beautiful.
I held it towards her, my heart in my hands.
She reached slowly and grasped the top of the stem with her left,
and held the end of the stem in her right.
In the middle of the stem lay a single thorn. Curious, as no other
rose bore any thorn at all.
My pale princess from times long past held my token of love to her nose,
the delicate rose petals tenderly touching her cherry lips.
With her smile still in place, she softly severed the head of petals.
She put the stem in her mouth, gently licking the wound she had just inflicted,
but to this I paid no mind.
I longed to touch her hair, to again know an angel.
As the rose petals fell dead and scattered at her feet,
I held my hand as close as I could dare.
I snatched away my hand as a viper violently struck.
The beautiful head of gold was now a head of snakes.
At once, our poor sun shattered and fell from the sky.
The thick, slithering, slick skin of the snakes shone,
her pale skin enhanced by a silver sliver of the moon in the sudden darkness.
A grotesque beauty.
With her gentle smile set in stone,
as if carved upon her by a most loving, and most hateful hand,
she took the stem from her mouth and twirled it in her fingers.
She raised her arm as if to strike, and, accompanied by a bursting thunderbolt,
hurled at me the stem of the rose with a single thorn.
The stem, tipped with a wicked poison from her beautiful tongue,
struck straight and true through my heart.
Creep was the poison, and creep the poison did.
I gazed in wonder and silence at my princess as anguish spread through my veins.
The eternal field of flowers erupted in black flames, yet my princess was untouched.
She stayed standing at the edge of her inferno,
her heart-wrenching blue eyes
watching stonily as I fell to my humble floor of dirt and stone.
The stem raised out of my chest as a pole,
with the single thorn, a flag of hatred, planted deep into my soul.
On my back, with my head slightly turned,
I watched her vanish into her dark conflagration.
She was gone into the fiery night.
Without a word, she left a message of
my banishment forever from her sight.
With her went all the light, the moon shone no more,
and the stars never were.
I could not see but could feel the fierce fire,
the intense heat nothing near the force of her ire.
I lay broken on the dirt, crying in such a rage of sorrow as I’ve never known,
with the knowledge that I would die with despair in my heart.
Amidst my cries of agony, her chiseled face came back to me, hauntingly...
“My princess…”
