Intoxicate

Phantom of longing,

he watches like a whisper.

Visiting upon quiet sleep,

a ghost aching to kiss her. 

Lost unto the passing of time,

roaming the gardens

line by line,

he knew her once so long ago,

a memory lost to the passing of snow.

One day she dreamt on garden's bench,

a soothing presence

his thirst to quench,

he left a blue rose upon her chest,

watching the girl as she gave in to rest.

When the maiden awoke from dreams on high,

she found the phantom's rose,

colored like the night sky.

But to her dismay,

the wind snatched it away,

lost to the air,

guest that wouldn't stay.

The lovely girl would not fret for long,

for there was a handsome prince,

young and tall.

He gave her a new rose,

gold like the sun,

the maiden surrendered,

her lonely heart

he had won.

He swept her away,

like another gust of wind,

leaving a lingering phantom

bitter and jealous within.

And so the ghost of her past

put on a mask,

waiting for the right time to ask her to dance.

On a day not far away

came the castle masquerade,

beautiful maiden and regal prince,

dancing all of their troubles away.

The mysterious specter had slipped into the crowd,

amongst the sea of masks

and decadent gowns.

Offering his muse a single blue rose,

the girl who with once he was so very close.

And so the prince left her alone

to dance with the stranger,

off to dance with another,

he knew none could take her.

She was his bride to be, 

now lost in reverie,

dancing in the phantom's arms,

unaware of what her fate would be.

As movement slowed

the ghost disappeared.

But to reappear again

to awaken her cheer.

This time with a glass of deep red wine,

to offer his lady to help her unwind.

The masked man lead her away to the halls,

as the music echoed across from the ball.

From goblet she drank,

but then to her shock,

a creeping shadow began to knock.

Red stained the floor,

glass quickly shattered,

collapsing,

she questioned just what she thought mattered.

Blackness descended,

everything faded away,

reduced to nothing,

no words left to say.

Down castle halls in the dark of night,

the phantom claimed his prey 

without any fight.

Taking her swiftly to their old secret room,

locking the door with a laugh,

sealing her tomb.

Obsession darkened as he threw her down,

upon satin sheets as he ripped at her gown.

But before the masked man could give in to passion,

he heard a soft sob,

and halted his actions.

Deadly poison brought her not death,

but sleep.

A slumber she had woken from,

a coma so deep.

As the phantom heard her fearful sobs,

his eyes grew wide and his heart grew soft.

Pulling his mask away from his face,

he allowed the maiden to see his disgrace.

What the maiden saw was not a monster,

but her childhood friend,

whom her family had cost her.

Back in the room where they used to play,

before money and privilege

tore them away.

Now all grown up and full of tears,

he looked into her eyes and made rid of her fears.

Reason and logic were what truly died,

it was always him for who she really pined.

She had been captured, 

but was no longer a prisoner,

indulging in the arms,

and lips of her visitor.

When the veil of nightfall had slipped away,

and unwelcome came the light of day,

maiden and phantom came up with a plan,

to secure the future

of their forbidden romance.

Forced to submit herself to a wedding,

given away like a prized pet of fancy,

they waited for the reception's bells

and the dancing to start 

to begin their rebel.

A drink of wine for the golden prince,

laced with a secret,

poison drip.

Staggering and afraid,

the room filled with gasps.

Not a sleep-like spell,

this time met with death.

Staring in horror over what she had done,

she poured the vial,

her guilt she had won.

Running to the arms of her phantom lover,

she sobbed and broke down,

un-soothed by his cover.

Consumed by her grieving,

she did not notice.

They were being watched,

by a woman with focus.

While the maiden shut herself away,

her phantom lover became vengeance's prey.

A woman knight of her late husband's name,

took down the man with her sharpened blade.

Leaving him bleeding alone to die,

while the woman he loved abandoned his cries.

When she discovered his body deep in the gardens, 

stained with blood and draped in gold roses,

the girl simply laid upon his lifeless form,

so very cold,

no longer any warmth.

She had spent so long wallowing in her shame,

Her true love had been vanquished 

before she could call out his name.

As the maiden then knelt before his grave,

the debt of her sins,

having been so repaid.

She had lost them both,

now left with nothing.

Her heart had betrayed her,

black roses for loving.