Blue Sepulchre

A poem inspired by Edgar Allan Poe.

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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.

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