Dear Annabel Lee,
It has merely been days, so why does it feel like a lifetime since I last saw you. Our love so pure and so strong, that heaven could not compete. I long for the light of your touch. I yearn for the love of your sweet lips, which have now turned ashen-grey. I wish I could hear your soft breath next to mine one last time.
But all I hear now are the torturing sounds of the sea. God’s fury, which we have come to know so well, reflected in the water that moves fiercely alongside your tomb. He and His angels are mocking me. I hear their scoffing laughter in every new wave that crashes down beside you and transforms into an avalanche of pure, white sea foam which conceals their jealousy and hate.
People must be wrong about divinity. How can heaven take away something that is even more sacred than itself? Why would a God, with all his holiness, chill the heart of the little girl with the most love to give in the entire human kingdom? No deity I could ever think of would do something so foul and awful. I have come to loathe God and his spiritless slaves they call angels.
Our souls shall never part ways, my dearest Annabel Lee, even though our bodies have been separated. My body has become nothing but a shell, containing the hunger for your love. A shell which sole purpose is to find its way back through the darkness that surrounds it, towards the lights that shine from your eyes.
Now I see it. A dim light, glimmering through the dark fog, barely meeting my eyes. I have found you, love of my life, now I can join you. At last.
Edgar Allan Poe
by Simone Flipse