Hopelessly Haunted

Locked away in her icy solitude, she bides her time...
Pacing the stones, tapping the glass;
Turning obsequious madness to rhyme...
Winters come, summers pass.

Night after night, still she wanders the halls.
Ghostly existence, barely alive;
Echoes of hysteria... to a lost lover she calls,
"He will soon come to me... soon to arrive."

Wringing needy hands, repeatedly wailing,
"My love, hurry home to me.
On the black waters you are sailing...
home... home to me... return from the sea."

Corrupted waves of fate have already claimed his soul...
She did not hear... refusing acceptance of fact,
Leaping blindly into dementia's bottomless hole.
"He will soon be home... we made a lover's pact."

Just turn your face... turn away.
Her imbecilic bliss will pull you in...
Let her alone... leave her to fray.
Her hope is no crime... her love is no sin.

Locked away in her glacial tower, she passes the time...
Calling to her lover, wishing only to be
in his arms once again... to end her call... to be loved divine.
"My love is soon to arrive... he will come to me."