The Whisper

I often whisper your name,
Scared that at my heart's plight, i might cry
To check if it still hurts the same,
I still often whisper and try.

He was always a river of flowing water,
And me, just a damp dam,
His spell was cast on my heart quickly, by the quarter,
Yet, he was always the prince of this tale in which, i am.

Falling for him was like falling from grace,
Sin in it's meaning, cold and pure
The view of light did his darkness ace,
Emotions never even touched his glossy core.

His beauty shadowed his madness,
His black heart appeared though, so pure
His existance was in itself, a mess,
It made my heart pounce and roar.

Love is although, but a lie,
I forgot, until he left me there broken and sore
Alas! Affection is the path to just walk and die,
Through which hearts so innocent, they lure.