My dearest Christine,
I've missed the warmth of your gentle caress,
and the softness of your kisses upon my cheek.
I cannot bear to live anymore for: the royal
realm of my heart's joy is enshrouded by the
fiery mists of sorrow.There is no happiness to
be found within my soul,for it is compassed about
by the dark armies of painful loss. My mind is left
to lie upon the bloody battlefield of terrible,
discontented agony over my loss.Apathy gnaws at
my guts,and strangles my senses.The dark legions
of dismay beguile me,and have destroyed the fertile,
hallowed grounds of joy. Leaving me to wallow in
the sack cloth and ashes of bitter mourning forever more.
From the darkness of the underworld she saith to me:
My love it shall be alright,for the day is coming
when you shall suffer no more. Come to me my darling,
and let us sit together,and I shall make everything better.
Donavon Scott Vinson
