Upon the midnight's cloak, my hands did stain,  
In careless whisper lost, the shadowed breath,  
A fellow soul slipped through the darkened lane,  
Unwitting bearer of my flawed bequeath.  

With every mournful hour, I reap my sin,  
Each pulse a haunting bell that tolls for thee,  
In dreams your visage dances round within,  
Yet time's cruel hand denies what’s meant to be.  

I drown in sorrow's tide—a grave of thought,  
Tangled in threads of love and veiled despair;  
For thou art dust where once my heart was wrought,  
Yet death unveiled a path to darkness rare.  

When last I sought release from haunting plight,  
Thy soul reborn slips through the veil of night.