In chambers dreary, dark, and cold,
A tale of woe and anguish told,
Of one who loved with fervent breath,
And mourned the loss of life in death.
Through the veil of sorrow, he did tread,
In haunted realms where spirits led,
Seeking solace, seeking grace,
In memories of her angelic face.
A love so pure, a love so deep,
Where passion's flame would ever leap,
Yet fate, with a callous hand,
Snatched from him his heart's demand.
In twilight's gloom, her voice still lingers,
A spectral whisper, soft, yet sinister,
She walks the halls, a ghostly grace,
Her essence lingers in this desolate place.
Her scent, a fragrance in the air,
Her touch, a shiver, a presence rare,
He sees her shadow in every room,
Yet he remains haunted by this endless gloom.
No eyes behold her ethereal form,
No souls but his, her presence warm,
For in this realm of the living's plight,
Only he witnessed her light.
Through candle's flicker, a phantom's dance,
He yearns for her spectral romance,
But as he reaches, she fades away,
A phantom's touch, a lover's dismay.
In dreams, she comes, a visitation,
A fleeting glimpse of salvation,
Yet waking hours bring cruel despair,
For she is gone, and he alone is left to bear.
The world may doubt her spectral reign,
But he, her lover, feels the pain,
Her essence lingers, forever his,
A love eternal, leaving time amiss.
So, in the depths of sorrow's night,
He holds her memory, shining bright,
For though he dwells in realms of woe,
Her presence lingers, unwilling to let her go.
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