This is poetry, through Christian's point of view, after writing the story of his one true love.

I do not own Moulin Rouge, it's characters, it's plots, or it's settings.

My Diamond

She was a diamond, a sparkling diamond

She was every man's best friend

I, a man myself, loved her

From when I first saw her, until the end

She was fated to love another

And yet, she loved me instead

She was a splendid actress

But she could not go to his bed

She was no diamond dog

She would not come to him at his beck and call

She would have given it all up for love

She would have sacrificed it all

The sparkling diamond loved me

She loved me and no other

But she could only love me

When there was some sort of cover

When we were out in the open

She had to fake a smile

But while she pretended she was his

She was thinking of me all the while

She was the courtesan

He was the maharajah

I was the sitar player

And the Moulin Rouge was our India

In the end, she did die

And I was by her side

Her act was so amazing

That I, a grown man, cried

Now, here I sit, my writings in one hand

With a pistol to my head

And once the world here's the bullet

I'll no longer be alone on my bed

I'll be with my sparkling diamond

In apology I shall kiss her hand

I never meant to make her wait

But now I'm with her, and there is no other man

For we believe in truth

Beauty, like heaven above

And now we have our freedom

And, more than all else, love