A court of thorns and roses rests
shrouded in cloaks of glamorous
conspiracy. Disorienting
vibrant silhouettes flood
the crowded courtyard.
Masked in copious silks,
faces masked with powders,
stinging taunts soar through
putrid air. Echoes whisper.
Secrets revealed. Wasted.
Smiles paraded on painted faces
hide leers lurking beneath alabaster
skin stained red by
blood born of crushed blooms bonded
through servants tears.
None behold the oak.
The stained oak. That sordid oak dripping
crimson into the malicious gathering. The fresh
obstruction no longer entertainment.
Finished.
Raven gossamer caresses snow,
floating helplessly in violent gusts.
An unmarked target, they miss –
a fracture births untouched air
taunting ivory flesh. Left wanting.
Russet marbles penetrate
whispering reticence. Ethereal ink
embraces decaying skin –
dancing with phantom breath.
Entombed by passionate abhorrence.
Magnificent delight
dulled in betrayal by blood.
A spectacle. Whirlwind. Commander
of men. Seductress. Mischievous. A witch at the right
hand of the king. A sister.
Gone.
Broken.
Defiant.
Beautiful.
Forgotten.
