Attic lily,
Crafted from Michelangelo's  hands,
a gem eyes fumble to adore
   Shapes, lines, curves perfectly placed on
         her body to sing hormonies that echo
            perfect anatomy

Attic lily,
A dazzling dream, but her soul hugs a dead sun
fair marble sculpture,
     built with a jungle of thin strings to fill
          her entirety, a cat's cradle adorned
                with twines of roses to mimic completion.

Naive,
she thought losing a few petals for the
      happiness of others was brave
          A rose for him, a rose for her...
   Selfless,
    she is a mirror, for her smile has
         always been a reflection of others.     Hypocrite,
     she wears a face with printed traces of
           happinesses to shadow the gloom
                 breeding under her own.

Attic lily,
strong built independent woman
     But secretly prizes to be caressed in
           hands with a feeble touch
...to be pursued with a genuine smile
..to be treated worth more than an art
             piece in a gallery that eyes dart on
     and forget about, the second they walk past.
to be checked on when her soil dries out.
       Attic lily, she is,
         for no one notices her unless they
               need something from the attic.