Oh, Eleanor...
How I wish I had your hand in mine!
Her eyes are dew-drops of early-morn
Whose reflected hues and shades declare
The elusive sublimity of
Rich chestnut, fertile earth, Autumn air.
Her cheeks, so supple and full, unpainted,
Yet still such brilliance they sport!
Surpassing the cold gleam of diamond
With Eos' gift of blushing quartz.
Her brow, gentle and unsnarled by woe,
And whose beauty would surely dethrone
Any sculptor whose vanity hopes
To trap such beauty in callous stone.
Her hair, a waterfall, flowing down
In coursing streams that downwardly wend.
Onyx-black, and so deeply hued that
Darkness itself cannot contend.
Her mouth, curling imperceptibly
At the nebulous edge of a smile,
Whispering at words yet unspoken
By craft, cunning, cleverness, wit or guile.
Oh, Eleanor...
No Eleanor.
This girl shakes like a sheet!
Her head can't catch up with her mouth!
Even now she babbles, fumbling words,
Crying like a stuttering whore!
This waif
Is not my dear Eleanor.
I can't fathom how she put me under
The wicked grip of witchy glamour
But the vile artifice is no more;
Her devilish visage lies shattered!
Beneath the ever-falling deluge,
I slip into the shadow once more,
Waiting for the next passing maiden,
Desp'rate to find my sweet Eleanor.
YOU ARE READING
Fright Night! #Wattys2016
HorrorLove horror, gore, and all things scary? Then this is the perfect book for you. This will give you many nightmares. Make you rethink about the creatures that are lurking within the dark. Its just one of the many things we want to ignore, but can't...
