The graveyard of my luscious flowers appeared in all its majesty and magnificence, hiding arcane secrets and alluring spells of lost loves that were now just a scatter of dust and decay. My wild heart had dragged me into the abyss of dismay where I had been allured magically by wicked ghouls.
I had certitude that no creature loved me. Still, all that I could cherish was the damaged portrait of my dreams, which had been buried in the graveyard of my luscious flowers. Sweet funeral melodies floated like a gentle winter breeze, making me melt like a snowflake under the sun.
I huddled among the gravestones looking, for a trace of one of my flowers but I searched in vain because I found only muddy earth and ice. I could see shadows peeking out from the dry branches of dead trees, whose roots were soaked in despair and bones.
An exquisite storm overwhelmed me and agitated my shattered heart, along with all my desires and dreams. I dared to chase all the stars of the night sky; nevertheless, I couldn’t find them because they were not there for me. I had altered into an ethereal entity. I wasn’t real. I wasn’t mortal.
I fantasised about glistening starlight and crimson incense, whenever a nightmare would find me, carrying me to the realm of darkness. I was no longer material. I was a metaphysical creature made of turmoil and frenzy. Instead of a heart, I had an iron-made treasure chest.
I embraced the realm of darkness and eternal night, and like a fierce ghost, I chased elusive dreams and chimaeras. Because, I yearned for love and passion, like a flower in the desert craved water. I was an everlasting flame, and I was a frosty blizzard.
I enjoyed being a magic sorceress, ready to cast spells, and finding delight in my withered garden, confiding in my ravens, ghosts, and crimson roses. I amused myself by tasting bittersweet venoms and the frozen flowers, which were blossoming in my garden. I swallowed nonsense and I sensed fire beneath the deep garnet moonlight.
I was hate and love. I was demise and power. I was darkness and light. I was fervour and purity. I was madness and wisdom. I was sin and virtue. I was blight and beauty. I was nasty and righteous. Everything lingered within me, and nothingness swirled like a tempest inside me as well.
I burned like an inextinguishable flame because of my foolish and greedy desires. Having no longer a body, I was made only of fire and ice. Instead of a heart, I had an abyss of frenzy. My fondness for nightmares and dizziness was infinite, like the oblivion of the universe.
The graveyard of my luscious flowers was my agony and my bliss. All my spirit had been brought away by the stormy wind and all my hooes had been reduced to ashes. My soul belonged entirely to the magical realm of ghouls and witches. I embraced the doom, becoming my only dream.
Elisabetta Esther
