Cool earth, freshly turned, is lovingly made into a solemn grave.
Hidden within shadow, she will never wake again from her eternal sleep.
“Goodnight and goodbye,” he whispered hesitantly to a callous world.
There, in the blue hour, he cherished the remnants of the waning night.
The Demon and the Girl: two star-crossed lovers in a tale of melancholy.
He, who consumed flesh and soul, loved.
She, who was an angel among beasts, loved.
Their labyrinthine story of tragedy has now come to a close.
In their requiem-black opera, the final aria is sung:
In an act of passion, the black swan kissed the white.
Mother-of-pearl mists, in the morning’s twilight, flow.
On the brilliant shroud of heaven, the stars twinkle on.
Sanguine roses bloom upon the ruined garden walls.
There, on the horizon, lies a porcelain crescent moon.
Perched upon the gnarled yew, a crow rasps harshly,
“Even in Death’s icy grip, the warmth of Love remains.”