A Rose for the Unnamed(Phantom of the Opera)

Reading a book, a novel or even a play is satisfying. Even the plot makes you think and leads you to better ending, alternate storyline- in short, makes you create new forms.  The concept of Fanfiction springs out from these lazy adventures of the idle brain.  

Lets just imagine that it was not Erik, the deformed man, but Christine, the Deformed Phantom of the Opera—A new story—a new cryptic tale of what haunted the Palais Garnier, mostly known as the Paris Opera House. And what if Erik was to learn of the unnamed tombstone in the cemetery belongs to none other than the only woman, who had ever loved him truly...

A Rose for the Unnamed

His hat held in his fist,

He has just placed

A bright red rose,

Over the snow clad,

Unnamed tomb

Lying quiet in front of him.

“So she did love me?”

He murmurs…

She did.

Even when she held hhim

Captive,

Saved him,

Spoke to him from behind the walls.

His Panthom of the Opera.

His angel of Music,

Unmatched and untamed

Voice of Elixir.

So hard a choice,

He made, He knew.

Loving a monster in mind

All the time.

Marrying instead,

A lady of nobility instead.

To keep up the sham.

He loved her…

Hidden from the world.

He loved the mask, she wore…

Perhaps more.

His wrinkled face

Traced a tear line…

His wife dead and buried

Few hours ago.

A known script

Signed anonymous

Held close,

Inside the pocket close to his heart.

He knew,

She never lied

He now knew,

She never left him either.

Hidden behind the veils of illusion,

She watched him,

Father children,

Rise to popularity,

Become a family man.

She loved him,

He now knew,

Just how much….

Knowing even,

“Monsters cannot be loved back”.

A rose to the unnamed,

Was all the walking away,

Heavy footsteps

Could ever afford..