I tried to copy the style of the writer, Edgar Allan Poe here. To me, his style of putting heart aches and love affairs into a magnificent gory and gothic melancholic way has always made me a great admirer of his writings.
Foggy was the night when i met him,
Torned in the flesh,
Devoured from the inside,
Savaged in his manners,
And yet, the language of love was stronger,
The hands of compassion were brighter,
Real love vanquished bitterness.
And then, nothing last for long
Misty was the day that he left me,
Tears devouring my flesh,
Heart aches teared my ribs,
I became a lonely animal . . . lost
Oh! so lost i became,
Oh! so embittered i remained.
And then, darkness appeared in a corner of my heart,
I trembled with anger . . . he left me to die
He left me to sink,
I couldn’t see that he was pulling me into death,
Because again i remembered . . .
Foggy was the night when I met him.