Losing Lenore

A grim and darkened sorrowful tale
of a dimming fancy, henceforth ail.
Shallow green swallowed eyes, skin pale,
my conscience since adrift and frail.

A valorous faith in that lustful sin,
and a wicked pleasure in her grin.
Her seducing vitality from within,
enthralled as if lost in gin.

Her adorned amulet had whispered low
of reverie, in which one could bestow.
This lone enchantress, a sole doe,
I had once believed to know.

But swiftly risen of ill will was a harpy,
and inflicted vengeance of jealousy.
This dire revelation taunted to me,
a wrath of hell, and of yours truly.

A treacherous traitor, accused heretic,
but the actions alone will contradict.
This deceiver, this siren, will afflict
what she believed to have been tricked.

This wretched imposition awakened,
now deserted and solitarily shaken.
So lest my heart be forsaken,
withhold this pondering taken.