Author's Note: Okay this is when I was starting to hit my stride during the lost poem years... Finally a poem that wasn't about my own selfconsumed love life. *laughes* Then again what is poetry for but other than me whiney and metaphorical? Anyway I won't give the poem away.. you'll get it when you read it. Pretty straight forward. The title was never really finalized but it will do.
*
A blanket drizzled over her
On velvet she reclines
Her lips are drawing pale
But there's no thirst for wine
Her eyes once used to beckon
Sending vias of empty red
Now staring upward to the unknown
Though she was long ago put to bed
Her tendrils of black lay limp
But they still ensnare
Within, her hands lay tangled
Infantile with dread stare.
Milky white and fading
She shaped and ruined men
A respectable lady at tea
A lioness in her den
So many hearts broken
So many loves spurned
A spinster lapped in luxury
This rest was well earned
They had hearts of expensive glass
Intentions bright and clear
She appraised their worth
Then shed them like their tears
So here she lies at midnight
Sleepless, she realized their cost
No time for redemption
Her soul long ago was lost
So I immortalized her body
So she may never grow old
A red sash stains her chest
Her heart already cold
