449

I died for Beauty—but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room—

He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied—
“And I—for Truth—Themself are One—
We Brethren, are”, He said—

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night—
We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up—our names—

A ghost used to dance in my mirror--
she moved like a picture taken in motion,
though her dress remained still as the background.
But she has since stopped dancing and
grown bruises beneath marigold eyes.

Once, she whispered to me “It’s not your fault,”
but her breath reeked of rotten flowers
left too long in a molding vase--
her skin delicate as dried viscaria petals,
flaking and crumbling ever since

a man’s uninvited touch lingered there.
She stands pretty from across the room,
though her beauty is measured by the distance
I have forced between us--
five feet and counting.

Swimming in the world of black and white,
For we cannot see beyond the rainbow.

Do you drown at the thought
Of finally being happy
Because its been so long
Since you've seen the world in color
Spring doesnt seem to come around anymore
Your sky is gray, gray, gray
And flat, like the curve of your mouth
And whenever you try
To play piano like you used to
The keys all sound out of tune
But you've gotten used to them
Wrong seems normal
And being happy scares you

{NR}

The string that bonded us,
I thought to be strong.
I cut it loose,
Bringing it all down.
Like pieces of broken glass,
Here it lies.
Am yet to figure out
How it died.