𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗥𝗬: "My Old Rose and the Wilting Hart" by Mary Elizabeth Luzon

Published by: Kassandra Aman 

Date Published: October 30, 2023

Time Published: 1:05 PM

Category: Poetry

Theme: While in grief, you can find anything or anyone to be your comfort.

When to a small candlelight,

you brought my Rose back to life.

Only a question, a story,

she, nothing more than a memory.

In small candlelights, I see,

this merely a test or fee.

You fleered, almost madenned—

no! Merely astonished.

I do not scream of a captive

for my life is inexpensive.

For Rose, she whom you had rend.

Now my garden, yours to tend.

The morrow, a cold weak night,

I seek and cry for a light.

You there, you trampling her corpse,

What remains of old shared hopes.

Still no word uttered as I—

woke and traded a blind eye.

That night, you came to my side

with cold hands, sweet, sultry lies.

‘She’s well and alive,’ you say,

I cry—you stayed as I lie.

A mattress of blood and flesh,

you give comfort at your best.

Though there not a day I see

her corpse stood not front of me.

At dawn, the castle I wander.

In dark halls, not to travel.

I see my Rose in shadows,

brume—some ash, dread and sorrows.

In bright halls, a glimpse of you,

lambent—bright, a sun I knew.

My rose, I recognised in you.

My life, could light another fuse.

I dread to drown in the dark.

Your voice, a serpent it might,

I cry, hunger for your high.

To name you my Rose, ‘tis lie,

but my shade seeps to my skin

so I cry you, something akin.

Her corpse follows me to your path.

Though your light, tis to her, wrath.

In your arms, I hope at last,

To not fall ablaze too fast.

Though yet I feel cold of my heart,

but I not trade it all as—

I have the safety from Hart.