Hello there. I am new to Phanfiction and fanfiction in general, so I shall start off my writing collection with a poem. This is set after Christine leaves Erik, done in his POV, as he thinks about their love. This can be any phantom you so desire--Leroux, Kay, ALW, or Gerik. Your choice. Enjoy. And please R&R--it is my first entry on here, after all, and I would enjoy any feedback that you could get me. Just keep it easy on the flames.

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own POTO or anything copyright related, despite what my penname says. Wish I did though, but don't we all?


Unrequited Dreams


Music was my freedom's soul,

That never really let me live

As you did. Oh, how you have brought me

To life, and death again!

I longed for love so desperately once,

now for inner peace and solitude again

to quiet my turbulent mind and shattered soul,

not for this pitying self-loathing,

both burning and freezing

away what is left of my pitiful heart,

A shrivelled withered thing,

holding only my desire to

hold you, if only once,

in my arms as only a lover could.

-

Oh Christine, if you only let me,

I would give you the world and more!

I gave you all that I had to give,

my music, my art, my love, my trust,

my heart beat in your hands as you held it,

a small, timid bird that could soar to the greatest of heights

If you only let it fly free within your own.

But instead you chose to rip away its porcelin shield,

And let it shatter mercilessly on the cold and unforgiving stone.

-

But tell me please, my living goddess,

what else can I offer you?

My angel, perfect being;

You alone who can heal what little is left

with your purest sky eyes

and ethreal voice

that I once wept wth joy to hear

Because I knew that you sang for me.

-

Oh my darling dearest, my sweetly singing songbird,

how I long to hear

my name on your lips,

spoken in a way that only a lover, a wife,

a destined soul from the stars can do,

breathed out upon your daintiest of lips,

delicate and soft,

unyielding as the prettiest pale pink rose petals,

so unlike the roses I give you,

in crimson red and silken black,

that speak of unspoken and unknown passions

that you alone can make me feel,

with just my name let out softly in a whisper

from your lips.

-

But what am I to say such things?

Me, a monster, a side-show freak,

most twisted gargoyle of Hell,

darkness incarnate,

to taint your innocent ways,

or to have any claim to the

lightness of your spirit as only God does?

I know the truth, that we could never be,

and yet

A part of me still would deny it so

with tears of useless hope and unheard prayers

to a God who never cared.

Tears only for you that will never cease to flow,

especially in death.

For a monster can never truly love

That which he is never meant to love,

and neither will an angel take its pathetic offerings,

no matter what it begs.

-

Oh, Christine!

You seem so cruel, and yet

you are not at fault, as you have never been.

For no soul from Heaven's loving hands

can love these hideous beasts, so cruelly made

and let to live by a master who once knew of Heaven's pleasures

and denied them deeply.

Yes; all that that fallen, twisted angel makes

is just another version of himself,

left alive on earth to entertain

all that the human race denies it takes pleasure in doing.

We only have our hope;

and that is always our deepest downfall.

-

For I once hoped that an angel would love me, as I loved her,

her silken curls gleaming in the sun,

her sky-blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy,

never fear,

but love, as she sang,

and all else around her shone as if enlightened with tiny crystals,

as the world blessed her over and over again with its own tears,

at having such a beauty sing amongst them.

-

But for me, such a dream could never bless me,

A hideous creature of darkness,

a Devil's Child, a Living corpse,

Always alone, and unrequited

Because of a face I cannot help but be.

.


R&R, please. That is all.

Yours sincerely,
La Maestra