Ophelia Poem by Agatha Eliza

she sees Hamlet contemplating the incandescent core of the moon
and hopes that madness won't disturb her last moment of love
once dreaming she'll regain happiness near his damned soul
when in rare wistful hours she finds shards of confort
and, in her hair, violet scented pearls are gathered
as all the flowers plucked in her hands, shatter
destiny is meant to make this memory alter
as her body embraces cold silent water
like a poem with a muse unbothered
wound painted in morbid colours
with name written in perfume
by a water of fast ripples
as won't stop calling
yet again and again
for a last time
for Ophelia..