There is a beauty
in insanity like that
of a wilted rose...
A full moon's belly hangs heavy above,
illuminating an endless abyss...
Bleak horizon reflects smothering mind.
Wearily, I ponder upon my plight.
Who was that smiling man, I wonder...
Whose gaze taunted me through a looking glass?
Recollection teases dim memory:
I swear I have seen his proud face before.
I know that I have seen his face before.
And though he smiled at me in full glee,
I detected an impenetrable
sorrow dancing within his hollow stare.
Why does sorrow dance within eyes of woe?
As if from tales untold, secrets unknown?
Or do they sorrow for Annabel Lee?
Annabel Lee who slumbers still in sleep,
ode to her name; it is the song I weep.
Lord above, I pray, for her which you keep.
I turn from her, my cadaverous queen.
I turn from him, the phantom thespian.
And flee to my Lord's home, the village church.
I'm standing in the mirror, gaze latched upon a haunting facade. Petrified, I contemplate upon the peculiar man whose taunting smile enrages me. My palpitating heart fear trembles, seeping from my pores to scent the air with trepidation. Cowardice compels me to flee from the cathedral and I chase the night awaiting me beyond the cross upon crimson doors; longing to become enveloped within midnight's embrace.
It's the devil, I say!
It's the devil, I pray!
With a twinkle in his eye and a smile filled with pride. And the mournful truth of it is, is that he's a lot more familiar than I care to admit. However, if I knew not any better, I would declare that he cast a startling resemblance towards myself.
I stumble out the double doors, racing with the wind down the stone steps. I feel like a man possessed... I'm greeted all at once by the howling wind and bleeding rain, the sudden drop of temperature a shock. Such a contradiction compared to the muggy atmosphere amongst the cathedral alter. The night snares me and I fear I am running in circles; being chased by inner demons who are empowered by my imagination.
"Annabel!" I sob
"Annabel!" I weep
"The voices, they sing! The voices, they scream!" I clasp my hands over my ears as I fall to my knees, trying to mute the choir inside my head. Wearily I stagger uphill towards the sound of her pale child's laughter and... weeping?
YOU ARE READING
Ode to Annabel Lee
PoetryMy story has three major characters; The Sketch Artist, his wife Annabel Lee, and the antagonist: the phantom Thespian. This is their story, which depicts an ill-fated love. The sketch artist wakes from a nightmare about his lover's death only to fi...
