She was like yesterday

Her dark eyes shut
for eternity
becoming an ancient book
embellished in ashes and dust
hiding arcane myths
and enigmas ;
does she dream in colour?

The time is forever freezing her beauty
in black and white ;
I will keep her this way forever
my beloved celestial princess ,
dressed in a silver silk gown
in her crystal glass coffin
hidden from the eyes of mortal men
never aging , never changing

As the first snow was on her face
she smiled at the twilight sky ,
for her final time ;
her face beneath the frost
a mesmerising sight
such as this was never truly seen,
but in the lake she lies in

Her final thoughts are
dispersed chaotically
in ante meridiem
in the most peculiar colours
a mortal had ever laid his eyes on

The nostalgia and memories of her
still linger
and hesitate
resisting to vanish
I see her every midnight,
hidden under a cloak,
following her over a trail of leaves
and every time I come closer
she leaves...

To anyone who looked
under the moonlight
into the aspect of her eyes
she could convince you
she was carved from stars
while you're still observing
each fragment of her ethereal face
and every curve of her divine body
you so eagerly wish to feel against you
so tender and soft ,
and in that moment
she is a goddess
and she rules the night
as you kneel upon her open legs
praying in an ancient tongue
known only to two who ever lived

All of the mortal men
were slaves to the
sanctified beauty
she possessed ,
they worshipped her
as if she were a goddess ,
they all looked at her dying of old age
as if she were a poison
they are so addicted to watch

The moon was crescent
and the stars
highlighted her shimmery skin
as if she were still there
the night she died ;

I hated the moon
I hated the gods ,
the night she died
the world was never beautiful again
and all the upcoming nights became starless

Her absence brought melancholy and misery ,
but I still hear her
delicate , fragile voice
whispering my name
in the most perfect harmonies
a woman's tongue can speak

Every starless night I wondered
wouldn't the gods be sorrowful
if such beauty was destroyed by the hand of time?
No , the time never deserved her...

It has been a while...
perhaps a moment , but perhaps an aeon
since I have been watching her
and no one ever noticed
how old I became ;
roots of ancient oaks growing over my hands,
and my hair turned into first winter's snow

The way she looked at me
with her lethal eyes
pierced into me , through the ice
like a freshly sharpened dagger
and left me there bleeding
a blood so different from hers

You would have seen this too ;
the goddess would never have died
have I invoked her name ,
if you had looked into the eyes of a prophetess
aeons ago
she left us nothing but a sorrowful dew
whispering :
If my goddess can die
then so can I

Her name will fade from books ,
the trees will renew the symbols she carved ,
the lake will swallow her crystallized bones ,
but the gods will remember her
and cry ,
but only to me ;
her name
and the colour of her dreams
remain a mystery