Soon...

Before her lord committed suicide,
he told her with meaningful eyes,
Counting she’d give him eternal pleasure in the afterlife
He knows, that whatever happens,

The monk's prayers will fan her helpless soul
toward his hungry ghost. To be enjoyed ever after

Through the blood scented breeze
She caught the patient plucking of a Shamisen
In her praise she thought the tone enchanting,
Superb and intoxicating,

Each note wafting around her superb features,
and lingered as if acting as distant hands 

A haughty flourish,
from the lord who will soon claim her head,
As his soldiers swarm the palace walls,
each shouting with war and lust for her prized face.

Her eyes were lost, and seemed only half- alive
as she eyed the lone sashimono still bearing her Mon of approval, that she sewn for him,
fluttering in a sea of invaders
and the young warrior still proclaiming such loyalty to all,

A boy she loved, a "boy," no longer, still the owner of her heartbeats,
barely grown, moved her beyond salvation
Whose tender and loving hand
Had often made her wounds sweet, Made her cold life warm

Her ghostly hands caressed her ivory body
that once was to be his, 

Soon...it all wouldn't matter...