Pianist’s Daughter: a poem

“Her Ghost in the Fog” -Dani Filth, Cradle of Filth

As darkness turns the day, I realize I

Can not pray. 

The tune that was written for you; it is 

Always filled with creatures.

You haunt me like I adore you and

You want something within me.

Like fireflies, which hypnotize, I

Often wonder, “Will she rise?”

The piano plays itself 

As I run my fingers down my face.

I hurt because I want you and I 

Know I can not 

Grasp your charm.

Dawn comes to claim me 

And I feel your Presence; your face and 

Being are 

Beautiful; 

Your’ winged essence’ is of eternity. 

Like a curse, you tear me to pieces.

As the glow of the sun 

Illuminates the sky, 

I cry …

For you. For myself, I scream. 

My sweet angel, 

How far you have

Fallen 

Determining the light. 

I am lost inside, but I try 

To be fine.

How will I ever know

If you’re wanting to consider me? 

It is hard, for you, 

Not to die. 

Rest in peace, my love. 

Our hearts

Forever.

RIP

The above poem is one of my strongest yet; it is to be featured in a new collection of mine, which will be released next month.