My Dearest,
Though I am called a Duke, with lands and titles vast, it is but a hollow mantle without you. Since the first moment I saw you, tending the blooms in your garden, the sunlight casting its gentle glow upon your face, my heart has been seized by a feeling I cannot name but know as love.
You, a simple girl from the village, possess a grace no courtly lady could rival. Your laughter rings truer than the finest music played in my halls; your kindness outshines the gold that decorates my chambers. You move with a quiet strength that humbles me, and in your presence, I feel no Duke—only a man yearning for your heart.
I know that a chasm of station separates us, one marked by custom and expectation. But I swear to you, on my honor and all that I hold dear, no rank or privilege could dim the brilliance of what I feel for you. If you were to take my hand, the splendor of my duchy would pale next to the radiance of your smile.
I have watched you from afar, hesitant to speak, fearing that you might think me insincere. But love, true love, cannot be silenced. My words may falter, but my heart is resolute: I wish to walk beside you, not as a Duke to a subject, but as a man to the woman who holds his soul.
If you would but allow me, I promise a life filled with devotion and joy. The grand halls of my estate would echo with your laughter; its gardens would bloom only in honor of your beauty. Together, we could transcend the bounds of title and simplicity, finding in each other a love that defies convention.
Say but a word, and I shall be yours—now and always. The fields of your village may be modest, but they have borne the most precious flower of all: you.
Yours eternally,
Henri, Duke of Beaulieu
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❝𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦𝐬❞
PoetryIn this book, you will find gothic and chilling poems, letters and stories that will make the hair on your arms stand up with so much fascination and horror. Everything written in this book is my own. And it is my first book of poems and among other...
