PhantomHarleyQuinn

She sits beneath the stairwell, secluded, all alone Hoping, praying all the day, for once, to feel at home As others gather round, all laughing, gallivant Not her, you see, she’s suffering, contentment something scant At times she’s truly happy, though never for too long You’ll never see the darkness there, the mask she wears is strong But still it’s there and doesn’t rest, keeping her at bay Within her beats a weeping heart, restless all the day The compliments she’s hearing, not one of ample thought For she believes, these “falsities”, are such an empty lot She’s never felt a beauty,

A cursed soul walks among creatures of the day,innocent mortals they are,unknowing of the void filled being which passes through the world unnoticed. Unannounced. Staring into the faces of those who, when they return such a gaze, see nothing but their own reflection. One of them. No need to hide or shudder at the thought of being found. He is there, hiding in the very daylight that is thought to exterminate such unholy terrors. He defies it all. What it is his purpose? Why is such a force in existence? But it is not just him, for this hidden darkness dwells in not only this one being, but all. And as each midnight hour passes, such a darkness

I lie here in the shadows, Far past the midnight hour The atmosphere, once peaceful, Has turned so dark and sour Your arms around me, soft and warm My thoughts are intertwined With fears and doubts and loneliness A new grief clouds my mind No words exchanged as moments pass Though knowing what to say Acknowledge what’s to happen next This is the final day No longer must I see you There’s nothing to be changed It's over now, we must accept There are no other ways Your palm, placed gently on my cheek Your dark eyes pierce my own And in those heavy eyes, I see A saddened soul, alone You kiss my lips and say the words For long,

Misguided with a touch, spoiled in the splendor of a moment Seeking satisfaction of unclean intent Lies a soul, so pure, yet rash, tossed in with routine intimacy Such empty affection Though this truth be exiled for fear of harsh reality Now, tainted innocence remains, still, not gone, but incomplete As two forms intertwine in passion Given not a second thought in such momentary bliss A glimpse in time and nothing more Once thought to be a budding romance by the soul Only for her to be dismayed, facing denial the second emotion interjects Dying by the hand of affection Justified in the torment of such unexpected despair