He looks at the silhouette,
A beautiful figure in the dark.
She is silent, floating in a mist
A creature of the night. Untamed.
He tries to grasp her, hold her in his arms.
She escapes once more. Like the dust which trickles through,
She’s a mystery, a challenge.
She’s a visitor’s paradise and an owner’s Hell.
She playfully cuts, throttles and kills
Unaware of the dead, Unaware of the dying.
He looks into her eyes, painful happiness resides.
She’s deathly pale. A mystic charm. An enigma.
He speaks to her, but her words find no voice.
A soothing murmur, like a silent brook meandering by.
She embraces him, in a deathly hold.
He lets her kill him, slowly but surely – he lets the pain flow.
He does not flinch. He does not sigh.
It’s a death that he wishes for, to escape this life.
She closes his eyes, with a soothing touch.
She breathes poison within his soul.
She dances the knife upon his heart.
She trails her finger down his heaving chest.
She kisses his lips, she rests her head
Merciless, yet a fantasy. Deadly, yet a desire.
He died in longing.
She killed in lust.
The silhouette and the Prince
An everlasting story. A frightening love.