Annie, My Love

I wish you were here with me, my love. Nothing has been the same without you. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you tasted when our lips touched. Please come back to me, my love.

My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, I plead thee, return to me; My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, I plead thee, return to me; My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, I plead thee, return to me.

Your heartbeat, I remember, was so delicate and frail; I'd hold you in my arms and kiss your cheeks, saying unto you: “Fear not, my love, for I am here with you.” How I wish I could say those words now instead of being confined in this solitary prison.

My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, how I wish we could be together again; My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, how I wish we could be together again; My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, how I wish we could be together again.

I hear your soft voice in the wind calling out to me—how marvelous it is! “Annie,” I say, “how I've missed you so!” And I begin to weep as you mutter no other words. I am then left alone once again.

My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, embrace me once more! My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, embrace me once more! My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, embrace me once more!

I listen quietly for your voice. The night is dark and treacherous like the bowels of Hell. By the light of a warm fire I sit, muttering none, speaking none, listening—listening closely to my lover's voice as she says:

“Love me.”

“I do love you!” I cry.

“Love me!” her voice grows louder.

I fall to my hands and knees, warm tears stream down my cheeks. “I love you! Oh, how I adore you! My love! Annie! Return to me!” My head begins to spin out of control; my mind loses its senses; and all I know to do is to cry out: “Mercy on my soul!”

The fire roars one last time before dying out. A sudden gust from outside pours in from my windows, wrapping me up in winter's chill.

I cry out yet again: “Annie! My love! Please, answer me!”

Silence. Such silence that tears through my heart as the treacherous night seeps in. “Annie!” again, I plea, but nobody answers me; I only hear the wind whistling through the trees outside.

Tears, so many tears run down my face. “Annie.” I taste her name on my tongue one final time.

My love— Oh my sweet love— Annie, how I yearn for you; Annie, how I love you; Annie, Annie, Annie, I could write your name for years and never grow tired of it; Tragedy strikes in the most awful of places; Nobody expects it when it blows up in their faces; Annie, you no longer walk among the mortal world; But I, your lover do; If I dwell in love, and that love be true; Then I am willing to die for you.

I take the noose and hang it upon the ceiling; I tie it down and gave it a quick feeling; I grab two boxes to hoist me up; I write even as I wrap the noose around my neck; And now I fall.