From living,  to memory,  to dust,  to forgotten.    My beloved, so many pictures, so pretty your grave, so sadly forgotten.    From heat of blushes, to the cold of death, to existing in memory only, to forgotten dust in the wind. 

My Gothic fire,  my tears of high emotion, my crimson shine  reddening these teardrops.  As if teary wax of blood seep from the flames of my eyes!  They dry to a still on my face; the haunting memories forever visible.

My Gothic heart afire within my sea of tears. Wrapped in thorny vines,  and dangling by such. The teary waves above  in my eyes are turbulent  and the emotional winds lashing.