Her child's body
Ached to feel
Part of something now;

Some substance;
The groundwork
Of some great nation.
She dreamed
Of a tangible loveliness.

Wishing always
In her young heart
To be whole, complete;
As two halves entwined
In foreverness,
She lingered in her wishful world.

Her ears never pricked
To hear the necromancer
Issue the invocations,
Spit the spell
Of the venomous demons
That ruled his own world.

Ire of the Furies,
In their towering rage
Fueled the sorcerer's
Unearthly passions to enslave
His new bride.

She would take amiss,
Offense at this,
Pouting all the while
With a frown,
A softened scowl

At her pseudo lover
For his ending of
Her own hopes and
Silken dreams of happiness.

For his incantations
Had banished her
From a land of greens
And blues,

And softness of daylight
To a coventry,
Shut up,
Denied the light.

It was as though
She was retired,
So young, so innocent,
From the very world
Of which she had been so
Vibrantly a part.

He made it then,
So she could not speak,
Could not protest
Her bonds, her chains,
Though invisible,
If anyone could see.
But no one knew
Her anguish now.

His hounds of Hell
Were there, watching,
Guarding as sentinels
To protect her.

But her voiceless lips
Created
Only tears
On her porcelain face.

And such fear,
Such loneliness was lost
On the creatures of
Hades' prison.

They, the dogs,
Would answer her sad pleas
With growls,
And gnashing
Of their long fang-teeth,

Snapping at her doll-like hands
That reached out
Vainly
To touch freedom.

A sigh managed,
With great effort,
To escape her paling lips,
Of lamentation
In her melting mood.

After such time indeterminate
Where the girl would weep
Silently still,
In the forced solitude
Of her devil's bride bower,
The would-be death princess
Would dream only of killing off
That which wanted her hand.

She imagined
Her ironic joy
At becoming widow
Of this evil;
Mourning then
Loss of her hatred,
Her salvation
Belatedly renewed.

As widow's weeds
Would beget satan's seeds,
She draped the blackest crepe
On her soft, frail shoulders,
And set her own dowry
For her Darkest groom.

With eyes as black
As all the midnights,
As daggers in her own heart,
She soundlessly sang requiem
To the ending of
This horrid life.

She raised the carafe,
The vessel of  dark hope
To her now-parched lips.

As the liquid death,
In its macabre flagon
Brought its warmth to her
Hardened heart, her face reddened,
As though alive again.

This was the turning point,
Her retrogression,
Her way to recoil
From the lot laid before her.

As she prepared then
To travel back
From the road
Of such perdition,

Preparing to meet
The mainspring,
The nucleus
Of her being,

She recongnised at once,
His look of daggers
In souless eyes.

For he could see
Her stolen soul
Leaving her young body,
And he knew that she
Was gone from him

Forever.

©2005 SPDworks