wuthering heights- catherine
The dead of night, I awoke, a specter of my former self,
body frail, skin cold and pale, the fevered breath of death upon me,
bound to the bleak moors, to the wind's mournful wail,
a presence, haunting shadow in the corners of my mind,
our love a savage force, consuming, relentless,
a fire that scorched us to the core, leaving only ashes.
My heart, a battleground of desires, torn between comforts and ferocity,
softness of domestic warmth, wildness of untamed land,
every breath a struggle, every heartbeat a reminder,
of the tempest raging within, a storm we could never quell,
walls of comfort closing in, suffocating prison of civility,
while the wild called out, raw and unforgiving, a true home.
Death's icy fingers traced my skin, sapping strength, leaving spirit fierce,
yearning to escape, to join the windswept heath,
visions of dark, consuming eyes drawing me back to wildness,
unending passion we shared, fierce and all-consuming,
as body weakened, spirit grew intense, longing to reunite with primal landscape,
final moments drawing near, the veil thinning, inevitable.
Pull of the moors, call of the wind, undeniable and raw,
earth beneath me, sanctuary and grave, merging with the wild,
my soul's mirror forever entwined with essence,
our love a curse and a blessing, an eternal torment,
with last breath, surrendered to night, spirit escaping decaying flesh,
melding with fierce, untamed moors, forever to wander, ghostly echo of passion.
Lost to the darkness, eternally bound,
to the soul that mirrored mine, wild and relentless,
haunting the landscapes of our shared torment,
fading into the mists, presence lingering in the cold wind,
our love a phantom, undying and cruel,
forever etched into the desolate moorlands.
