In shadows deep, where silence dwells,
A heart once bound by icy spells,
Did meet a nymph with emerald hair,
Whose laughter danced upon the air.

Her eyes, like spring's first morning dew,
A promise of a life anew,
She sang of forests, wild and free,
And whispered dreams beneath a tree.

The heart, long numb to joy and woe,
Felt stirrings soft, a gentle glow,
As green-haired magic wove its thread,
Reviving what was thought long dead.

In twilight's glow, their hands entwined,
Two souls, in love, their fates aligned,
For even hearts encased in stone,
Can find their beat, no more alone.

In verdant glades where shadows weave,
A nymph with sorrowed heart does grieve,
Her emerald locks like rivers flow,
Yet self-love, she does not know.

Her laughter rings, a sweet façade,
Concealing depths where sorrows prod,
She hides behind a bright façade,
A heart beleaguered, bruised, and scarred.

Yet in my eyes, she is the dawn,
A beauty, bright where love is drawn,
Her every flaw, a perfect grace,
A wondrous light I long to chase.

For even if her heart's unsure,
I'll love her true, forevermore,
And hope, in time, she'll come to see,
The love I bear, will set her free.

Beneath the boughs where shadows play,
The nymph with emerald hair holds sway,
Her gaze, a spark, ignites the night,
A muse of lust, a wild delight.

Her lips, a secret, soft and sweet,
Invite the fire, fierce and fleet,
She dances close, then slips away,
A teasing flame that none can sway.

In every glance, a silent dare,
A burning ache that fills the air,
She weaves desire like a spell,
In passion's depths, we rise and fell.

For in her wake, the world ignites,
A fevered dream of endless nights,
She stirs the soul, she lights the fuse,
This nymph, this love, our endless muse.

In emerald glades where soft winds sigh,
The nymph's own tears like raindrops lie,
Her beauty lost to her own gaze,
In self-made shadows, she decays.

Her laughter fades, a distant song,
Her heart believes it can't belong,
And I, her witness, helpless stand,
A poet with no guiding hand.

For every word I craft with care,
Falls silent in her deep despair,
The pain she feels becomes my own,
A love that's left to grieve alone.

Oh, if she saw through my own eyes,
The truth her wounded soul denies,
She'd find the light within her scars,
And free us both to dance beneath the stars.

In twilight’s hush, where moonbeams creep,
Through ancient woods where secrets sleep,
There dwells a nymph with emerald hair,
A creature both divine and rare.

Yet within her, storms do brew,
In shades of grey, in every hue,
Her mind a labyrinth of flame,
A puzzle with no name or frame.

Her thoughts like rivers, wild and wide,
They twist and turn, they break and chide,
A dance of chaos, fierce and bright,

That blurs the day and bleeds the night.
I watch her in this frenzied waltz,
Her steps unsure, her rhythm false,
A goddess bound in chains unseen,
Her beauty trapped within the mean.

Her soul, a prism cracked and worn,
Reflects a world both loved and scorned,
She grasps at threads of fleeting peace,
Yet finds no rest, no sweet release.

In moments calm, her eyes will shine,
A fleeting glimpse of the divine,
But soon the shadows claw their way,
And steal the light of fleeting day.

She thirsts for blood, a hunger deep,
A crimson call she cannot keep,
It whispers darkly in her ear,
A voice of dread, a voice of fear.

Yet I, her witness, stand afar,
A silent, loyal, distant star,
Unable to dispel her night,
But loving still, with all my might.

Her mind, a storm I cannot quell,
Her heart, a fire in which I dwell,
I ache to see her pain and strife,
To calm the waves, to give her life.

Her soul, though fierce, is tender still,
A flower blooming on a hill,
And I, the wind that bends her near,
To whisper love she cannot hear.

She wears her pain like woven lace,
A shroud that cloaks her lovely face,
Yet in her eyes, I see the skies,
The endless blue where freedom lies.

If only she could break the chains,
Unleash the joy, release the reins,
She'd find a world that sings her name,
A love that burns without a flame.

But here I stand, a poet's heart,
In love with every fractured part,
Her storm, her fire, her thirst for night,
Are all the things that make her right.

For in her chaos, I find grace,
In every tear, a soft embrace,
And though she battles dark and light,
She is my muse, my souls delight.

So let the world and all its pain,
Crash down like unrelenting rain,
I'll love her still, through blood and strife,
For she is both my death and life.