II

May 9th, 2020

September 29th, 2020 (edited)

Silence.

It was their love –

not the sort where souls communed, but

the sort that crushed and choked like

in a sealed coffin.

Sickening silence that made her wonder

whether warm love was simply an invention from fairy tales, and

any semblance of such love, pink paint over the

decaying black wood that made her house.

Silence.

It was the sound of hope burning in her,

charring her youthful flesh,

greying her smooth, dark hair,

tearing her large, bright eyes,

the sound of fading dreams burning in the child, burning in the both of them...

but now it was no more than

a pile of cold ashes –

not even despair.

Silence.

It was the confession of

the dewy-eyed girl smoldered

as she waited for her Prince Charming

among flames,

in the wooden nest they once built, and

her death was just retribution

for loving a man too long,

for believing in children's tales.

Silence.

It was their legacy,

a wordless tale of

unbridled ambition,

inconsolable spite, and

heavy melancholia,

a tale that chars all of

their child's tender memories and hopeful wishes,

a curse that runs like sin through blood.