The Cold Hand

An opiate dream I tell myself

Distinctly, I recall the downfall of my health

When I saw heaven in your eyes and hell in my hands

Oh, lady bright! My actions were not mine,

But some misfortune from the divine!

Your cold hand rests now, as it is forever lasting

And my mind is forever tapping

With more melancholy, so deep

With guilt I hear again in my fitful sleep

When your rosemary and lily scents become the din

Oh, poor child of sin

grown old and weak and weary

Burdened by the loneliness so dreary.

Even now I see your beauty so laughingly

Even now I see your beauty so fearfully

Thy dress of floral saw your eternal slumber

While my hands saw your eternal grave

I pray to God that my punishment is swift

Swift and painless from this unmitigated rift

As your cold hand caresses my neck and skin

Though your soul lies hid, I always, always hear your din

As the curtain canopy knows my lies

I will always recall the look in your eyes.

The ghosts and shadows beckon my window

Out into the night so bleak and indigo.

Will you be a witness to my demise?

And then, only then, will this be an end to my guise.

*****

A/N

This is for ViM's June Prompt to write a found poem using words from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Sleeper" linked below.

This was a fun challenge. Sprinkled a bit of "The Raven" in there, too, because I adore that poem and I couldn't resist. This is a fictional poem, obviously, and forgive the dark theme.

Thank you so much for reading!