Lies

The sun shone again,

Through the broken window it shed its light,

Like a holy demon feasting on heathen plight,

What is it she saw through the swirling dust?

A macabre sight in a cemetary of rust

The broken mug with the coffee gone cold,

The blank phorographs to which her soul was sold,

In scarlet glory, the jagged shards lay scattered,

With wax and wine, bloodstains spattered,

The white,unfeeling marble that fed on her fears,

Maybe she wept,

Because there was no one to wipe her tears.

Her hair, a tangled mess,

Woven into flaxen, bitter knots,

Her pale skin estranged, too numb to confess,

Her eyes blank, that failed to believe,

The voice that whispered, sweetened and deceived

Frail hands wrapped around an unyielding throat,

That bled a stream......A fetid dream.

Her lips apart, her breath soft with words she never spoke,

Words that left her broken heart, too feeble to get far,

Just like the straining light in the dark, a mirthless joke,

Or maybe like the convoluted strands of her hair,

Reflected in a labyrinth of words, her lost soul in the glass

Fragile, yet fatal, it bid farewell to the light,

As, defeated, the sun hid behind the purple haze,

The impenetrable mist where reason fails and conscience dies,

Silence asks, "Was it her?"................"Was it me?"

Me, the most unforgivable of all her lies....