THE QUEEN WITH PEARL LIT SKIN
Shadows of thy angel’s fleet fell upon me, when thy first witnessed the unknown, thee Juliet’s lips.
Juliet, thine Angel ‘twas thy shadow, afford ye with insuperable truth, for ‘twas thine grace of Angelina that tis much fairer than thy angel’s fleet. Angel face shine down upon thee, from mine sky above.
Angelina, the painted snow queen, stared into me did she, inside me, with eyes of moons.
A verse of a poem ‘twas she.
Thy pained portrait that hung upon Rapunzel’s castle wall.
Fair ‘twas she.
Dark she was, and light ‘twas she, all kept inside but a single moment.
Thou felt her, thy uninhabited creature of beauty, beautiful unlike any other, thy maiden that stood within unmovable time.
Smile she did not, but wore a heart upon her gowns of ice.
Thy moon above us, magnificent ‘twas he, for but only when thy moon hung below her.
She fell into a rapture of intense snow fall, thine snowstorm of sorrow.
Thus, thine rapture of intense sorrow worshiped the sky.
Praise be to God, for thine face hath been named Goddish.
Her eyes that looked upon thee, hath stared into thee, and her glare stared through thine soul.
A delightful charm that moved mountains, and the currents of the seas, ‘twas she.
Called her queen did thou, for ‘twas thou that looked upon her, not knowing thy true name; thy queen with pearl lit skin.
Amazed me it did, how easily thine heart would stop a time, a time again, when our eyes met, speak no longer could thou, and thou no longer desired to be free.
Only to be someone else around her, to be her, or to be with her, every night.
Was it a sin to fall in love with only but a look at thy angel queen.
I fought with thy self until dust did settled over thine face, and thou realized thine death ‘twas upon thee, a short moment ago, or maybe it was ages thou hath missed, when thou didst discover her.
Thou didst not understand beauty before a dream, this dream I’d lost myself in, ‘twas was her.
I understood beauty as it was, it was beautiful, the first beautiful being I’d ever witnessed, alive, her.
A face of a spirit so pure, I would’ve mistaken her for magic if I’d allowed myself to fall into her too soon.
So still she drifted above me, she was lightening that struck me, and the thunder was fire in her eyes.
So afraid of her thou stood silenced by her gaze.
“Who art thou fair lady?” Asked I, but her response came neigh.
Too ashamed by the silence that fell between us, a question I no longer reached for.
Thus still I pondered aloud, “who is thy creature before thee, the lady in thy red dress.”
Answer thou did thy fair lady, looking directly into thine heart.
“Thou art thy prince with black roses, the one, art thou, the one that follows twilight. Thus the night, earnestly, she follows thee.”
Tis thou thought a moment while in repose, quietly starring, waiting did thou, for ‘twas a thought that summoned thou from thine dream.
When thou answered thee, ‘twas somber that poured from thine lips.
“Why doeth thou ask this of thee, question thee with such a simple gesture. Neigh, doeth not respond to thy thought ‘twas pondered in thine somber. Thou will grant thy truth to thee.”
Angelina spoke neigh unto thee, thus thou creature, I beseech thee to come hither to thou, tonight.
“Art thou lovely, thy queen in thine repose.”
“Nay, come unto thee didst thou fair maiden of heavenly skies, thy hand to seek tis thine proposal.”
Hands of silver glow reached down to thee, speaking poetry.
“Thou taketh thine hand, ye pleasure of heaven, doth not thou believeth in thine righteous repute.”
“Nay, thou doth not know thee, but in only from thine past hath thou seen her.”
“Thus, ye shalt discover thou truth, unravel thy scroll.”
Thy face was twilight under moonlit shadows, thy skin ‘twas silk with the frost of dawn.
“Shadows of darkness didst thine heart be swept under, hopeless life, embraced thee with unyielding sorrow, until night thou draw neigh to thee, thou
cometh to thee, with thy fondest hope, may it wilt not to soon.”
Thou watched ebony silk as it swept over her face, and thou didst cry her, for thine sorrow is great.
“Thy dark prince ‘twas he that ravished thine innocence, when thou was but still a child. Nay, do reproach thou with thine anger, lest thou refute you with abundances of thine love.”
Pearl lit skin turned wet, thus sadness fell in answer.
“Thou is thy victim, thine sorrow too great, thou is thy victim, thine sorrow too great.”
— Shawnda Dupree (Also known by, Shawnda Dupree).