Dedicated to Amanda: Here's a poem for your hopeless romantic heart

The Bell's Toll

The paling moon shivers under the breeze

As the midnight bell toll sounds,

Reaching deep into the shadows of despair

Calling forth Death's forsaken.

One from the front,

The other graces forward as a mist

Solidifying only at the touch

Of the frigid caress of love's last prayer.


Hand in hand they meet,

Atop an emblem painted on the floor:

A weeping heart of blood,

Veiled in bristling thorns.

His evanescent arm wraps gingerly about her waist

As ever so softly she lays her head upon his shoulder.

Subtly they begin their sway,

As tears fall for eternity's latest count.

Together they grace nimbly the onyx floor,

The lamenting wind stirring their forms into rolling fog.


A final toll resounds about the room,

Their flesh draped digits intertwine all the tighter,

As a gentle cadence of crystal tears

Rain down upon the floor,

Echoing a smothered clash.


From the barrel Fate so dearly grasps

Rushes forth the hand-shaped metal,

Piercing first her heart

Then traveling deep into the cavern of his chest,

Blood to blood they join,

Dying once more amidst the blanket of night.


The bell tolls once,

A creeping breeze cleanses the crimson

Staining the floor of love's last dance.

By the fourth echo through the room,

A form transcends down onto the emblem

Greeted ever haltingly by a sweetened mist.


She lifts the edge of her ivory gown

Twirling lightly on her feet,

Gripping ever firmly to his hand,

Praying for fate to journey astray.


A soft click marks the time,

As the aim is made,

Yet tonight he smiles down upon her tears,

Tenderly wiping each diamond from her cheek.


He dips his bride to the ground,

Laying her down ever softly,

Before standing erect on top the thorn-veiled heart,

Grinning triumphantly

As Death's harsh grip entraps his soul.


The paling moon shivers under the breeze

As the midnight bell tolls,

Calling forth once more the damned,

Yet tonight,

A change occurs,

As one translucent form

Meets with one of flesh

Upon an emblem of an efflorescent heart.


She lays her head softly upon his shoulder,

As gingerly he grips her delicate form.

Together they sway

Mocking the bitter wind with their movements.


A final toll resounds about the room

Its high-pitched chimes

Mirroring the joy of two lovers,

Fate's own pawns,

As living dances with the dead.