The Tower of London

The beauty of the blood-soaked jewellery
Cannot distract the young couple on the travellator
From gazing into each other’s eyes
Longingly.

Not even the screams of the ghosts
Whose organs are burnt
In front of their not-yet-dying eyes
Can stop their passionate kissing.

It was a flicker of a dress
A glimpse
And an argument
That sent them to never see each other again.

While the ravens, feasting on their ancestors stories
Are still waiting
For the return of the days
When warm flesh is served
With every meal.