You were perfect
bones, skin and locks befitting that
of royalty
your gaze, a burning tempest of bronze,
spoke a triumphant trill
a constant reminder of vibrant days since lost
you, lonely soldier, trudged into the lions den
lured in by false hopes, a venom laced tongue
the lion inside renders you his simple servant
taking your mind hostage and
chiseling down your star-speckled orbs to mere ghosts
caging the fluttering dove of your beauty
i spend sleepless nights weeping your fall
after your last ember has been quieted