Porphyria’s Heartbreak

In this epic poem, Leo Collatzi puts a new spin on the Robert Browning poem, Porphyria’s Lover. The narrator of Browning’s poem is unable to cope with his emotions and wants to preserve a perfect moment, as a result, he kills his lover, Porphyria.

Leo writes their poem from the heartbreaking perspective of Porphyria herself, offering the other side of the story.

My lover so sad and pale,

He is alone at home in this frigid gale.

I mustn’t stay at this feast no more,

When my dearest love is cold and poor.

I slipped on my cloak and shawl, tied on my hat.

I’m going to be his at last, no matter what aristocrats say at that.

No more roping in my heart, so passionate.

Life would be a dull ache, empty without him.

I tread carefully through the wind and rain.

Though the gale was fierce, my feet did not stray.

I reached his small cottage in haste, and this chance I did not waste.

I strode through the narrow door, his lips were blue in color.

I hurriedly knelt down and piled up wood and made fire.

Then my soaked cloak slipped off and next my shawl.

My dingy gloves were discarded by the door.

I untied my hat as he drew near to the hearth for warmth.

My lover paid no mind to me, his eyes stared into space: empty.

To beg for affection from my love so dear, it seemed as if everyone had the same cold onset

Not my mother nor father nor friends would diverge from this cursed mindset.

Do I belong in anyone’s heart? Or are others only kept in mine?

Am I only meant to tread through wind and rain to light fire in a hearth?

When will my devotion be returned?  For me, does anyone’s ember burn?

The strictness of Victorian and Christian code has left me cold and hurt.

I shook my head.  I must have faith, perhaps my lover didn’t mean to ignore my presence?

I took the pins from my hair, and shook my golden curly tresses.

I sat by his side, calling my dearest by name.

Still, no reply.  Has his love for me grown faint?  Did he stay in the cold storm too long?

Has his flame dimmed and mountains too steep to stay strong?

I wrapped his arm around my waist, perhaps he might find it swell.

Then I laid his head on my bare shoulder. What I was doing, I knew quite well.

I blanketed him in my golden tress, perhaps to seduce or perchance impress,

I told him how I loved him so, though my heart was in distress.

If I could not be his wife, then I shall be his secret mistress.

To leave him here with lips so blue, 

And to love’s warmth he hasn’t had a clue

I couldn’t restrain my legs from walking through-

-the soaking rain as the chilling wind blew.

At last he looked up at me, his eyes filled with surprise and joy

And tightened his arm around my waist, 

My heart rejoiced to at last be noticed by my lovesick boy

He seemed to think while his fingers played with my golden curls

He took all my hair into one long strand, and at last I relaxed

But then everything went black.

I awoke like from a hazy dream, 

In a room of white, nothing else to be seen.

Where is my lover? I called out his name.

Then an old crone strode up to me, her face twisted with pain.

“Oh my sweet girl, how do I explain?”

I stared confused, wondering from whence she came.

“He strangled thee with thine own hair!”

I stood frozen, surely this crone’s mind is lost.

“To preserve his idea of thee, knowing what thou sought.”

“Look upon my orb and see, the one you love, gone mad with extremes.”

A smoky orb she pulled from her ebony cloak.

I saw my lover wrap my hair thrice around my throat.

A sob escaped my lips, why hast my lover done this?

“Not all is lost, for there be work to be done.  

Awaken thee now, when thy locks are unstrung.”

The room vanished, and oh my throat did ache.  My eyes shot open, and saw my killer’s face.

“Unhand me at once!” I rasped.  My hands massaged my throat as I gasped.

I rose swiftly, pulling up my sleeve. 

His face shocked, for his eyes did not deceive.

I glared at him, eyes burning with tears. 

 “Did it mean nothing? All these years?!”

He tried to speak, but not a word came out.

I turned my face from his gaze, shame ablaze.

“You will see how cold you get without my fire!” I shout.

I threw on my cloak, and tied my shawl, my hat back on my head as messy as my bawl.

“To think you would betray me Persus, after all the love I gave you.”

As I ran into the night, with no home to go back to.

I knew not where the wind would take me, 

but I knew it was far away from those whom would break me.

What work was there to be done? What had that old crone meant?

All I wanted was to be content, I thought as I made my decent

But into the night, the woods, the storm,

I felt the pain of being reborn.