Posted in sad

Witching hour

Clad in her silken night clothes she crept into his room,
She’d been away for a week and the king had pined for her everyday,
The door slid shut quietly.
Delicate fingers disappearing.
Smiling, she waltzed towards her lover,
He didn’t want to marry her, she didn’t want to rule.
Unease engulfed him, the king was not careful.
Blinded by lust.
When she woke the king was still asleep.
But when daylight came the king was dead.



Everyone's life view prism is different.

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