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A beautiful gothic girl,

Heartbroken,

No longer awating  her gothic prince.

Beautiful,

Unique,

Perfect,

Truly one of a kind.

Tears stream down her

Gorgeous pale face.

Sad,

Lonely music,

Plays behind her.

She sings along.

“Who will love me?”

“I will,”

Somewhere her prince answers.

“Is there anyone out there for me?”

“Yes,”

I comfort my friend.

“Who?”

“Me,”

Her Goblin answers her,

Hoping to be heard.

“Your prince,”

I reply.

“WHO?!”

“ME!”

The Goblin answers once more.

He hopes,

And prays that he shall be heard.

“I will love you!”

He says in desperation.

“I shall dry your tears.

I shall be your Goblin,

And your Gothic Prince.

I shall comfort you.

I shall let you cry on my shoulder

Anytime you want to,

Or anytime you need to.

I shall always be there to dry your eyes.

I shall always be there to love you.”

Unaware of her prince’s words,

She weeps more.

Goblin ignored.

Gothic girl weeping.

Shall they ever meet?

Yes.

When?

October.