She

 I heard the slither of her jewels as they caressed her hands in beauty, 

the expression of her nails as they were painted to mystify 

the scar she had on her fingers,

I heard the smile of the red ballgown, and I heard the music of the 

stockings she wore as her skin constantly reminded her, 

“It’s December, honey!”

She smelled like lavender, spoke like an angel;

and the way her cat snuck closer to her on the winter evening, 

she looked like a fairy mother. 

Oh how dearly she wishes to dance it all out, 

the words of liberation, and the tunes of freedom, 

how dearly she wishes to let go of the hair bun to finally 

let them sway their own way. 

The delicacy of loose hair, and the nude lips,

the laughter that hides beneath the sweet smile. 

She wants to laugh it all out. 

The little peek at the campfire she cherishes, 

the fiery illusion of loving things from afar, 

as the garden lushes with tomatoes and olives, 

she picks them slowly,

 and waits. 


How long? 

She knows not. 

The time crumbles and crumbles with every footstep she takes, 

the white clock reminding of the lilies she wishes to keep. 

December goes.

She wears the purple skirt, the tiny top embracing her collarbone

as she steps out in her mediocre heels. 

Letting go of a sigh, she tunes into the sway of her hands, 

the painting of a woman in black. 

Colors mis-spread and mis-distributed, 

nude, flat, lines of mere unwithered epiphany, 

she stands still drawing the words of her antiquity in silence. 

Her brown skin in utterance, 

speaks the volumes of the canvas she is, 

the creation she weaves, and the expression she is.

Oh how beautiful those marks look on her, 

and how proudly she whispers her thoughts to the daffodils so dear. 


The white shirt she borrows from the store next door, 

unbuttoned at the top, a tad bit large,

“A lucky charm the lost button is”, she quotes. 

Serendipity she wishes. 

Hopes and lies feel alike, 

so do smiles and cries, 

the liberation she seeks, and the liberation she is, 

how duly waited is the bondage that ties her feet to the ground

when she wishes to run and run away. 

She is pretty. 

But, how dare she confess? 

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