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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1041857
Rated: E · Prose · Romance/Love · #1041857
A piece about the evolution of one couple's love over lifetimes.

It was lifetimes ago.
A time of white knights
And noble princes,
Where truly he was both yet neither.
His hazel eyes held my soul and my certainty.
His breath on my neck whispered of
Wood nymphs and fantasy,
In a world before adoration was forced
Into compliance with the status quo.

And oh! How I loved him then,
In his shining suit of silver.
The sunlight dancing in his hair
As our footfalls echoed in the mist
On the bonny moors of Scotland.
He brought to my doorstep
A bouquet bathed in the blood of the innocent
And lay dying in my arms as it colored
The white purity of our love with its scarlet allegations.

It was lifetimes ago,
A time of petticoats
And bowler hats.
Where truly he played the role of Schindler,
Rescuing the souls of the forgotten and I
From my pedestal of haughty righteousness.
A master and slave both
He spoke of death and dishonor
As he held my hand upon his heart.

And oh! How I loved him then,
In his golden rags of nobility.
His gentle words and loving touches
Bringing the streets of London from their foggy dank
Into the splendor of our love.
He brought to me the cross
His hands and feet still nailed and bleeding.
I held him to my heart as the crimson life ran
From him onto the white snow of yesteryear.

It was yesterday,
A time of bitterness
And treachery deemed noble
Where he is King and Giant, his deeds
Exalted in a world where love knows not
Where to hide from this infernal land of darkness.
His eyes betray his soul
As he counts his thirty silver pieces,
Placing them in his leather pouch
As he peers down upon me from his Kingdom.

And oh! How I love him now,
In his confusion and his anger.
Brandishing his dagger dipped in hatred.
He speaks to me of sorrow as he smiles
Showing me his empty hands as he clutches
His paper gold.
He tells me it has been lifetimes
Since he felt happiness, all the while
Laughing maniacally at his good fortune.
He brought to me his soul
Set upon the silver and bathed in the broken
And as he walked away
I held it close and kept it safeā€¦
Knowing in my shattered senses
I had to bring him back to the bonny moors of yester-year,
With no teacher to guide me and
Not an inkling how.

© Copyright 2005 Dahlia Janey (blackdahlia at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1041857