–5/5–
Cinder in the fireplace
Liquor empty decanters
The knife is in the hands of a pretty face
Somebody doeth wrong,
She, that is swathed in taffeta.
The moonlight entering darkness’ territory
Knife, back in its case, she ascends the stairs
He that is visibly absent, she imagines as her escort.
Breaking into a short-lived smile, the flashbacks start haunting,
That dance on the rooftop, where for another he professed love.
Scarlet she wore, heartache she bore.
Tears staining the fingertips of her white satin glove
She, She had it all, but betrayal, She never saw coming
Entering the chamber, She is deep in thought.
The night is beautiful, and still young
Climbing out the window, surveying the rocky backyard,
The unthinkable plays at the back of her mind, a dirge waiting to be sang.
Chills through her body, hand imprints on the wall,
She steps back through the window and down onto the floorboard
Walking past the dresser into the bathroom,
The tap she leaves running to fill the tub, entering when half full
Still in her attire, she submerges.
One… two… three… her face appears at the water’s surface
Again under water, but reappearing seconds later
Wrapped with a towel, she’s reclined on the bed with a lost gaze
Tragedy avoided three times, sheer folly!
Heartache, insanity, they’ve kept her company.
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