Through a dark wooden door,
Across a midnight floor,
Along a rose petal path,
To a lavender scented bath.
From bath, to room,
A place of long gone doom.
A bed of satin gloss,
Dark curtins hung back at a loss.
Upon this bed a woman lies,
A single rose beside her drops its petals as it dies.
Dark of eyes and pale of skin,
A ruby smile of pure sin.
Through the cracked window, a sweeping breeze of night,
Snuffs the single candle and only light.
Plunging the room into a blackened state,
Hiding it beneath a Dark Velvet gate.
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