Phantom Queen Poem by Agatha Eliza

the queen steps in with the mourning
garb upon her face,
in such splendid crimson
gown, adorned in lace,
her velvet gloves have lost their
trace..
her feet do not touch the ground;
as she slides in grace.
she heads to him, to his embrace.

the smoke rises from the ashtray
as the king is getting old,
she glared at him, his eyes are cold.
her love collapsed when she was
sent to the scaffold..
the axe then fell; she lost her soul,
but throughout the cradle of centuries
her story remained untold.

he's soaked in pride and drank
the cup of scorn,
with wine that turned in blood in urge
as speed of gale blowing far from north.
a deadly sin.forever sleep..
of someone heading to eternal trip
the king cannot bare the dirge no more
feeling the frozen thrills, as he grabs
the bloody sword.