when once the veil of her face
fell and was lost with just a murmur from the sky
the bandage of her lips
that patterned the travel of her speech
unravelled the twists and turns as voice meets voice
torturing the ghost of my ears;
her eyes of a forest green
still lost inside the portrait of her distant shell
on her canvas of elusive bones
hiding with the hearts of swans far beyond her castle walls
where stores her tears inside the tower of an August mist
where once her music flowed
bringing light to the darkness of a thousand hidden stars;
where now the warm milk of her thighs?
her delicate hands of daffodil and wool?
she is as distant as I inside my world of growing rage!
how I age with the crows that now circle her constant stares
as each and every single day
I question the strength of a human heart;
the cruelty of fate:
drowning in a sorrows rain
where swims no more my aches and pains of once pleasant memories
as I climb the stairs to her soul
still fighting the plague of her mind
since the veil of her face
fell and was lost with just a murmer from the sky;