Back to the North Yorkshire.

 

Back to the North Yorkshire,

Where my colors fade from vibrant to sheer,

All that left are the ashes from my amorous letter,

The sandpaper vine that stems out of my fear,

And the rain here felt like it was someone's tears.

Think I saw the lights were flickering inside,

Is it a person?  is it a silhouette,

Of my past?

Or maybe it just the wandering souls,

Of the soldiers that have died,

Hopelessly shielding the castle with all their might.

No, it was not.

It was the wise king with his ambitions,

And the devoted queen with her dreams,

They stood so tall and proud ruling their country,

But not for so long,

Not until the extreme winter caged them in a misery.

And she watched as their castle besieged,

And her loving husband is nowhere to be seen,

Drowning in her own insanity,

Pierced a dagger to her heart carelessly,

"Would this be enough to pay the price,

to retrieve the heaven that I built with the love of my life?"

Maybe it was, maybe it was not,

Because in the middle of the chaos,

She saw the glimpse of the king,

Back and forth, contemplating,

To save his queen or save himself by fleeing.

Lost poems filled with bliss and sorrow,

Wasted chances and the time that has been borrowed,

Back in the North Yorkshire, is the moment I know,

The tragedy of knowing that I will never be worthy enough

For you to take risk for. 

by ms.whitehorse