Bereft Of Red (The Danger Of Despair) Poem by Lauren Kapusta

The fair lady made a waterfall for days.
Her heart murmured in the softest and,
Faintest of battered, bemoaned beats.
A princess was now lost without a prince.

She clutched an ebony rose to her chest,
As she felt her soull withering under,
The ponderous weight of it all.
Tear ducts dried up at last as there,
Was simply no more to shed.

Desperation and woe clutched her reason.
A miasma veiled her brain effectively.
Life merely had no loving composer.

At last, she wrote to her prince.
A few remaining tears was the wax seal.
The blade became her friend and savior.

Slash! It tore neatly through milky paper.
A crimson cataract gruesomely burst forth.
The accomplice clanged to the ground,
Laying in an ever-growing puddle.
The princess fell shortly after.

Moments later, the prince burst in,
Sensing a cloud of negativity.
He knelt down in the pool, staining his garb.

The light in her eyes dimmed like weak candlelight.
A faint angelic smile graced her draining face.
At this moment, nothing could be done.
The princess slipped into a ever-restful sleep.
Tears gushed from the prince now.

He held his beloved in his arms, now,
Merely a comely shell bereft of red