In the dim corridors of the heart,
Where shadows whisper tales untold,
Poe’s love, a haunting art,
In moonlit dreams, its mysteries unfold.

Beneath the raven’s watchful gaze,
His words, a melancholic song,
Through endless nights and misty haze,
Where longing and despair belong.

A tapestry of passion and gloom,
Woven with threads of sorrow deep,
In each forgotten, silent room,
Where love and madness gently weep.

Yet in the darkness, hope does gleam,
A flicker in the endless night,
For even in the strangest dream,
Love’s twilight finds its guiding light.