Dark Visitor

Tragedy and heartbreak – words that make no sense
until they infuse your soul and eclipse all light.
Like razor blades, they shred all hope or pretense
as they slash your dreams and darkness fills the night.

A vision in her youth showed her a path of love
that stretched into her future like a fairy tale.
Each night she'd say her prayers to the gods above
and waited patiently for each new day to unveil.

She met him in her youth. There was instant recognition;
the dreams that she had seen were found within his eyes.
It was as if their souls had shared her precognition,
and both were swept up in the wondrous surprise.

Then came the days of sadness.  A small cut on his skin
and sickness flowed within, though valiantly he fought.
Not prayers or incantations, not arcane medicine,
could stem his downward spiral, leaving her distraught.

The day they buried him was filled with rain and storm.
On his grave she vowed that her love would not recede.
So began her obsession, to find some way to transform
the finality of death to which she would not concede.

She searched the land and followed every obscure tale
that held the faintest promise of her love's return.
With a single purpose she sought, to no avail,
finally turning to the dark arts -- the method no concern.

She found the aged hag sitting, wreathed in smoke,
in a darkened room that smelled of strange incense.
A sickly, sweet perfume that almost made her choke,
she was mesmerized by eyes that looked at her intense.

As if her soul was bare, her purpose seen in just one look,
the old witch began to prepare a potion over flame.
She mumbled incantations from an ancient book.
"This will give you what you seek" she finally proclaimed.

"Your love has passed beyond" she said, "He cannot return,
but I can offer you a way for the reunion that you crave."
The promise was enough for her, all warnings she did spurn
and paid the argent price for she was her obsession's slave.

In the darkness of the night, three drops fell on her tongue.
She felt his presence near and her heart increased its pace.
She ignored the fire burning deep within her lungs
as she felt his arms surround her in an intimate embrace.

Something wasn't right as weakness spread its cloying rot,
and she felt herself begin to struggle to retain her  breath.
Too late she realized these weren't the arms she sought.
"Who?" she cried
      ...and in the silence a cold voice whispered "Death."


Notes
Illustration credit: http://xeternalxrestx.deviantart.com/art/Don-t-Fear-The-Reaper-71773219

Thank you for taking time to read my words.  Please, take a few moments and leave a comment. All are welcome and appreciated...

Ken