Caress of a Curse

I watched her day in and day out. The sun rose and set, but I continued to watch her during the night. The golden tresses of her hair was woven back upon itself, held upon the back of her head. She had the most beautiful dark brown eyes. They were like the night sky, dark and unknowable for all eternity.

She rose every morning with a book in her lap and a cup on the table before her. She sat on the plush chair, red in color, reading the book for the past three years. The porcelain colored woman didn't go out of this room. Instead she stayed within the safety of these stone walls.

These walls protected her from the outside world. The world that barely knew she existed. Only a servant that brought the woman food and water knew of her existence.

It was when the sun, a golden ball of light, was high in the sky that I liked the most. The gorgeous woman with her smooth skin caressed me. Gentle and loving. She ran her fingers along my body, slinking against my skin. I nearly shivered as she grasped me and pulled me up.

It was the best time of the day. She placed her lips upon me. Her rosy pink lips.

Night was the time I hated. I couldn't see her. She slept beneath a pile of blankets and across the room. Even her hair was invisible to me. Everything was dark. The only good thing was she left the fabric covering the window open. I could see the night sky.

The mirror. It was my nemesis. She would spend more and more time in front of it. She angled it to look out the window, to peer into the world she could never be apart of.

Then she fell in love.

A man. I didn't know what he looked like, for I didn't look. She spoke about him. She wanted to meet him one day. But she couldn't. She never could.

He was all she would talk about. Sitting at the mirror, waiting for him to appear once again. She looked at the mirror with longing eyes.

He didn't appear again.

She took comfort in me. She held me longer and caressed me more. Even when she was weaving, she had me by her side. She would ask me if her work was good enough. Was it pretty? Would he like it?

I did not answer.

I knew this day would come. I knew this would happen. It was only a manner of time. She looked out the window.

The man from before had returned. He walked the street below. And she looked.

It happened in a manner of hours. He had left by then. She ripped her woven tapestry from the loom and ran. Running down the stairs and outside.

Taking a boat, wooden and small, she pushed off. Without paddles or anything to row, she laid down.

There lies the Lady of Shalott. Drifting off to the land after this one.

And I would never follow. I was just her tea cup.