I shan't cry.
I can't  allow myself too.
For I am the widow.
I'm all wrapped in black.
The gossamer web of my lover.
My lover she's the most glorious person that I have ever encountered.
She's a mentor to the most blessed of truths.
I trust her not to let me down.
She is captured in the smile at the end of my frown.
She is sutured deep inside my brain.
Sometimes she is pink and frilly, descriptive and very pretty.
Sometimes she climbs out of the coal hole under the house.
A somewhat mucky mouse.
She carries me back to childhood fears.
Angry tears.
Bundles of rage.
A verse to each and every page.
She is the woman of free expression.
She is not a real world widow.
And never does she bite.
The window she sees through, always clear.
bathed by acidic rain.
(C) Livvi