Withered Primrose

In the dead of night she came without a sound,
The darkness brought shadows to her eyes,
With a haughting gait she wore a mourning gown,
Honey sweetened words was the perfect disguise,

Heart in hand without any utterance of a word,
Who would know that it was to be a grand mistake,
A shift of shadows with nothing to be heard,
She threw his heart into the waveless lake,

In a timeless passage it descended the depths,
For no eyes of this liquid darkness saw fear,
Of a wordless voice of the scepter breath,
In the suffocating darkness it simply disappeared,

Riddle in prose the primrose choose to loath in the mode of a sinful soul and fold any ghost that the primrose holds which was sold as gold where the devil roams,
So pray everyday until they learn to know your soul is shown and it is God's own.

Well done!

I need to dig up my old poetry. It's somewhere at my parent's house.

Thank you very much. If ever found I'll be the first to read.