Swan Song

Swan Song

sorrow spins out fine silk.
black as despair,
beautiful as vanity.
tears fall from her eyes,
her last thoughts dark as always.
like black pearls they grace her.
her beautiful pale skin,
a fragment of the memory.
lust brought the dagger to her throat.
brilliance aimed the stroke.
depression finished the job.
her beautiful dress,
once white with elegance and beauty,
now tainted with her own misfortune.
her own hate.
her own blood.

the moonlight serves her an injustice.
the rose an insult.
her love a mockery.
the kiss of death before the deafening silence,
a mere whisper.
what if? it said.
why not? it pleaded.
and she fell.
fell into her souls demand.
it's swan song.
her reflection now stirred by chaos.
havoc catches her as she falls into the abyss.
she stops as her one hope strives to catch her.
he gets a hold.
he gets her future,
a water drop on his hand,
but her soul pulls.
yanks.
kicks.
fights to its death.
If I go down you go with me.
I won't die alone. it prays.

then a flash.
a light in the dark.
and he gets a hold.
then the light went out.
and he falls with her.
hand in hand.
heart to heart.
lips to lips.
the final symbol of her soul's wrath.