I Might Be in the Underworld

At least that's how it feels.

As Orpheus of old I sing

For one I loved and lost,

But much unlike the music king

My Styx cannot be crossed

 

And unlike sweet Eurydice

She tripped not over scales

But wore a spiraled serpent, see?

From knuckle to her nails

 

It twists around her finger like

The snakes of Dante’s Hell

Inside the pit of thieves they strike,

Identities dispel

 

Am I a thief for wanting more

When she had found a friend?

Is she a hellish serpent for

Encouraging the end?

 

A sinless Satine and a Christian with doubt

The fire unlit is the worst to go out

Though dead in my heart she continues to breathe

While I bash my bones as I scream and I seethe

 

And she can tell anyone

This is her song,

But that doesn’t help me

Feel any less wrong

Author's Note

If you catch all the references in this... then I love you.