Ophélie
She’s wearing the dew on her dress
And her swathes of hair are entangled with the tired willow branches.
Her breath is the crystalline ice on the trees;
The water is almost as cold as her heart.
A tangle of rue held against her breast
Is a secret symbol of her only regret that will poison her
Slowly; infusing into her bloodstream, yet the effects unnoticed by the bearer.
The moon is a virginal and vacant white,
Unfeeling, passive, suspended by the threads of time in the infinite depths of the universe.
The waters are cold comfort;
The acid night air catches within the blackness of her throat.
Happiness was simply child’s play
And she was a child no longer, but a woman
Forming her own destiny;
Drunk from the choices freedom forced upon her in a world of truthful lies.
She’s adorned with flowers and there’s pain in her eye;
A pain that the water kisses, caresses.
It heals her with senseless touch.
The water sparkles with the diamonds of her youth,
Glistening sedately like a mirror, although the only reflection is in her mind.
Her hands rest on her bosom; curl, feline,
Against her breast like a newborn seeking solace, just as she sought it, hoping now to receive.
Her body is laced with the miasmic venom of human emotion.
Soon her poisoned soul will be free from its earth-bound prison.
And as she succumbs to the one finite truth of human existence,
She falls asleep
Wrapped in a blanket of stars.
And her swathes of hair are entangled with the tired willow branches.
Her breath is the crystalline ice on the trees;
The water is almost as cold as her heart.
A tangle of rue held against her breast
Is a secret symbol of her only regret that will poison her
Slowly; infusing into her bloodstream, yet the effects unnoticed by the bearer.
The moon is a virginal and vacant white,
Unfeeling, passive, suspended by the threads of time in the infinite depths of the universe.
The waters are cold comfort;
The acid night air catches within the blackness of her throat.
Happiness was simply child’s play
And she was a child no longer, but a woman
Forming her own destiny;
Drunk from the choices freedom forced upon her in a world of truthful lies.
She’s adorned with flowers and there’s pain in her eye;
A pain that the water kisses, caresses.
It heals her with senseless touch.
The water sparkles with the diamonds of her youth,
Glistening sedately like a mirror, although the only reflection is in her mind.
Her hands rest on her bosom; curl, feline,
Against her breast like a newborn seeking solace, just as she sought it, hoping now to receive.
Her body is laced with the miasmic venom of human emotion.
Soon her poisoned soul will be free from its earth-bound prison.
And as she succumbs to the one finite truth of human existence,
She falls asleep
Wrapped in a blanket of stars.