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I wrote this some time ago. Inspired mostly by the stories of The Raven, by Mister Poe (obviously), and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Enjoy, and, “Have a beautiful day”.

’Tis been one year from now, since I saw her out the door,
I saw her walking slowly, a specter upon the shore.
Selene’s yellow orb perverted the sun’s pure light
That vile moon, that unearthly moon, that ungodly dark, dark night.
I shivered absently, and felt a chill pass through,
I crossed myself quickly and crawled into bed.
I felt oddly feeble, but I passed it off as something to ignore
“‘’Tis but a cold,” said I. “Only this and nothing more.”

I woke up startled, dreaming of blood and gore,
My body was weak, a frail little thing, my legs were oddly sore.
My hand would shake like an autumn leaf blowing in an autumn wind
And my shirt was drenched in sweat, and uncomfortably clung to my skin.
I turned to my wife, to gaze at her beautiful, sleeping form,
When I saw that my wife had not yet returned, and still inhabited the shore.
My brow I furrowed, what could have possessed the woman that I adore?
“She is simply out late,” I murmured. “Only this and nothing more”.

I donned my coat, my hat, no shoes, and then I was out the door.
The cold night breeze, the black, black sea made the water a place of folklore.
I walked swiftly along the beach; worry had hastened my stride.
The waves pushed against the sand, and did not seem to subside
I saw my wife then, after what seemed to be hours of worry.
I fell to my knees, astonished, my emotions were in a flurry.
Staring in disbelief and shaken to my bosom’s core,
I knew full well that I would hold her beautiful form never more

My rage knew no bounds – it rivaled the fury of a whirling tempest
Its fire outgrew that of a thousand suns.
The mountains themselves shrank from my presence,
And the waves retreated back into the oceans
A fiery doom I cursed upon the soul who made this come to pass
I swore upon the River Styx, a vow I would hold fast
The police they came, and family appeared as looters to a war
But the man I was, the man they knew…he was to live, never more.

The months to pass transformed my body, my mind, and my soul
I became a husk of my former self; nothing could console.
Days became my nights, and nights became my days.
And I found myself walking along the shore, reliving past pains.
My mind would flash with images or horror
As my heart would thunder within my breast’s core.
I became obsessed with ending this story of folklore
Closure became my passion, as I was left with my wife no more.

Who could have done this? I asked myself over and over again
Who in their heart would want this to come to pass?
I loved the way she would rise each morning, smile and kiss
And her voice would fill me with a joy I would sorely miss.
Her intellect, her charm, her shining personality
Her loyalty, her wisdom, her spiritual immortality
In her absence my heart ached and was sore
If only I could have told her I loved her once more.

And yet…I felt a certain amount of relief – a feeling of liberty I now possess
A dreadful feeling that I should not have felt, yet could not suppress
Yet this albatross around my neck, it seemed to be a form of insult.
A question that plagued me so, yet resisted every result
Wearily, I made myself to bed, as my knees began to tremble.
I felt a chill pass through, and my thoughts began to dissemble
I remember this feeling from nights past; a ghost from before,
“’tis but a cold,” said I. “Only this, and nothing more.”

I woke up suddenly, dreaming of blood and gore.
I had been asleep for mere moments, when a question arose unlike those of before
“Where were you on that night? Can you remember?”
“Of course” I scoffed. “I was here in bed on that night in December”
“Are you sure? Were you not plagued by dreams? Was your body not sore?
Were you not shaken to your very bosom’s core?”
“’twas a cold,” I said, a fear growing in me. “What you suggest is pure folly!
“’twas but a cold! And nothing more!”

“Did she not hoard our money? Did she not ruin our name?”
“Of course she had her faults as do we all!”
“Did she not gossip and smoke? Did she not cheat?
Can you honestly say you did not do this feat?”
“That I can, you fiendish hound, now get thee away,
You curse my mind, now go before you I slay!”
“Was she not a tramp? A Babylon’s whore?”
“’twas just a cold! Only this and nothing more!”

“You killed her, my friend, it’s always been you.
You took your knife and your wife you slew!
Into the ocean you threw your knife, and washed your hands
You returned to your home, and came back to those sands.”
“My God,” Said I. “My God you have reason!
“ ’tis I who is at fault! ’Tis I who did this treason!”
“The blood,” he said. “Is on your hands forevermore.
Now go join your wife in the ranks of death and live no more!”

I killed my other self, though he put up a fight.
He was doomed from the start, but I enjoyed his plight.
He is now with his wife, down in Pluto’s domain
Abel is no more. I alone remain.
Friends may come, but they will see him. They will see no change
Family will not care if I seem a little strange,
I paused, and smiled to myself, as I slowly walked out the door:
But the man I was, the man they knew…he is to live…
Never more.