Her lips were fresh and full, shining of a deep crimson,
The rose in her neatly brushed hair fell pale in comparison.
She liked to paint them so, spending hours in front of the mirror,
Pretending to be the woman she’s not, being she was much drearier.
The smile she had never seen haunted her mind much too often now,
She frantically shut her kohled eyes, stood weak in a helpless bow.
When she opened them again, every burnt memory stared back.
She had a bold shell, but a liquid core, a soul pitch black.
Was it the love that she refused to give? I can’t say
Or the love that was never received, even on her last day?
Was the blessing that she didn’t accept the torturous crime?
Or was she mourning the loss that arose from another, unseen lifetime?
I saw from afar how she spent the entire day in the arms of a strange man,
To every handsome proposal she’d say ‘Why a loyal woman never can’.
At night, she lay under a cloud of smoke, she put out her cigarette,
She slept, her fingers intertwined with ones she’d never felt.
She was shaken out of her sleep at midnight, breathless,
She ran out of her room to her telephone, her mind was a mess.
I picked up, to my cheerful ‘Hello’, I heard her screaming in a soft silence,
Could I have known she was reaching for a dagger to strike her hollow heart with?
The next morning, I found her beautiful lifeless hands clutching to a leather journal,
Her eyes shone in the morning sun, they seemed to speak a language eternal.
I took from her hand the diary, opened the page to the sanguine bookmark,
I smiled at the curves of her letters, the last of her art.
‘Am I crazy’ she wrote, ‘to be how I have been?
I am the romantic who has never let her love see the light of day,
I waited to be saved without confessing, refused every help without reason,
Is there logic to this? Is there freedom to this? Never reaching out, never letting in,
I see lovers sitting at a bench beneath my window, I wonder what they talk about all the time.
Solitude in the world keeps me living, solitude in the mind jolts me with intense pain,
How am I to know the remedy to my ailment? Who am I to trust in this chaos?
I leave my body in peace now and free my soul to search for love,
I may have had none to offer this lifetime,
But in another, when you come home to me,
You’ll find it waiting for you in my heart. ‘