Mirahue

Aarib Salehin

Mirahue

Violet eyes; oaken locks,
Discolored heels flow across the rocks.
Dress? a reddened, oceanic hue:
The body of Lady Mirahue.

A moonless midnight’s spark
Left a star-struck twilight’s mark
With love of her heart’s care;
And ‘love’ of my heart’s spare.

Desperate dread for fate to show us,
Distant yet near nights of solus.
Enthusing us as it wouldn’t be sooner;
Unknowing of Fortuna’s malevolent humor.

Cold sun on our solitary beach;
Icy tides swept her out of my grip’s reach,
Screams proved null as she sank below shore
Dead on the ocean floor.

Thus, in this world, I was alone, truly alone.
A halved tragedy—without setting the tone.
Flowers for a wed too late, bloomed,
I lost her, and perhaps I lost myself too.

But.

But—if I really did lose her,
And leap onto Grief’s pyre,
Why did I see her at the staircase?
Why did I see the same woman’s face?

Brown hair; violet eyes,
Her feet, melted through aquatic slime;
Her dress, a bloodied shade of blue,
“I’m here,
To forever live on the ocean floor.
With you.”