She denies she ever felt them, and yet
They haunt the empty hallways of her heart,
Specters floating ever beyond her grasp
And refusing to neither let her rest
In peace, nor to do so themselves. Slowly
They steal her strength of will until her soul
Is mired in a grief as hard as granite –
A princess turned gargoyle, perched on the eaves
Of life, condemned to a joyless vigil.
But still, I believe that she can be freed –
That a single precious tear, shed in truth,
Can rupture the rock encasing her heart
And allow the wellsprings of life to rush
Out, sweeping away the lies and freeing
Us both to live the love she feared so much.