𝓐𝓷𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓵 | 𝒶 𝒷𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒹

In the verses of a poet a story hides.
That of love, of desire and of demise.
This such story sings a song of young Anabel and her cries.
In the darkness of the night these words reside.

A chill wind plays with her hair, that of vise.
The brown grass crunches under her feet, dried.
Nimble on her way, Anabel walks to the park, her steps wide.
Her lovely friends greet her in chide.
"Anabel, you're late, our spirits have died."

With gloom set in her heart, she turns away and sees a creature of God who pried.
Her being, her soul, her hopeless eyes.
"Young lady, in your eyes I see my salvation. Let them light." He sighs.

Matthias was the young man's name, he told with pride.
Anabel thinks of his declarations of love as lies,
As he soothingly whispers true words to her heart's guide.
He asks her to be his one and only, his loving bride.

A gleam of doubt in her mind, on that cold winter's day, his humble request did she deny.
So began the story of her love, of her desire and his demise.

~