An empty sheet of paper
The first stroke seems like
Such a bittersweet waste.
But it can never be
Taken back once it’s fallen
Upon the gentle, sweet virgin snow.
With its crimson eyes set
Dead ahead on her gentle smile.
I still wonder if she ever
Saw it coming before her head
Slipped beneath the newly melted waters.
Look, now, there’s another lure
In the waters, one more love left
For the taking. Can’t even guard
Her future throne because it’s
On the shore by the sea
Next to another woman
Who once went by the name
Of Annabel Lee.
And I know that this one
Never felt his sting and she never
Put up a proper fight after he
Muzzled her bite. If she had
Stopped and given him a little foresight
She would have seen all the signs.
But I guess that’s just what love
Does when left to its own devices.
The next belle, she was different.
Never anything but callous and distant.
Seemed like she knew his name before
He even poured her a drink but
She preferred to drink from the kitchen sink.
Didn’t trust him to be alone
For more than a minute. Always pushing
And pulling until he wanted to just quit it.
It was then that he knew that
He couldn’t just live it.
She taught him that it didn’t
Always have to end with her head
Under the waters.
But while she left his life on the sand
With a bouquet of Amaranths in his hand,
He left hers with a wilted rose,
Fists full of their bloody finish,
And her knees covered in
The soil that she stole him to.