She counted time not,
In hours or even days
But in stollen moments
Glances, caught
From loving eyes
Graceful touches,
Deemed "sins"
The wife of a beast,
Daughter of a merchant
She, the sold wares
Counting not, the hours of absense
But time gauged in wishes,
Her scarlet letter, blackened
Worn over her breast
Scars hidden,
Beneath fine clothes
She wears the jewels given her,
To blind onlookers
To the cloaking darkness,
That covers her soul