Her eyes are hollow pools
Through which you think you can see the bottom.
What you think are the glittering
Smooth pebbles on the grainy bottom are really
Just the backs of the horrible monsters that swim
On the surface of her tattered soul.
Just. The surface.
Farther down, past those horridly
Beautiful creatures, in the darker,
Colder waters even more things swim.
Blind to everything, but the destruction
Of the few drifting remnants of
Her true self.
And even further down are the
Bones of her lovers,
Her family,
Her friends…
The people she never wanted to be
Dragged down,
Drowned. Along with the emotions
She never should have had.
They sink, slowly, in the silt of her consciousness.
Some with grim-bone grins and silent screams,
Others with spindle fingers reaching
for a surface they’ll never see again.