In whispers dark, the tale is told,
Of hearts once warm, now bitter cold.
Where love, a cloak, hides deeds untold,
And life's bright colors turn to mold.

Fair maidens fair, with eyes so bright,
Caught in love's web, a haunting plight.
Their laughter masked by tears at night,
As shadows grow, obscuring light.

Fingers once entwined in tender grace,
Now clenched in anger, in love's disgrace.
Where once was solace, now there's no trace,
Just echoes of a shattered vase.

Beware, dear ladies, of sweet-tongued lies,
That promise love beneath false skies.
For in love's name, the devil vies,
To claim your soul, with silent cries.

Listen well to wisdom's voice,
That bids you make a cautious choice.
For love should lift, not cause rejoice,
In pain and fear, with muffled voice.

To every heart, this warning send,
That love should never, ever blend,
With violence, that seeks to rend,
The very fabric, where hopes ascend.

For in the ashes of love's fire,
Lie the echoes of a funeral pyre.
Where souls consumed by love's desire,
Meet tragic ends, in funeral attire.

So heed this plea, oh maidens fair,
Guard your hearts with utmost care.
For love should be a gentle air,
Not a storm that brings despair.
© Mrs chief