The Fall Of Ophelia Hughes

And just when you thought I'd vanished into the ether...

A harmless man is a hazy sky

That drips with gripping silence, with

Humidity that disintegrates your bones.

Southern sweet tea stirred with acid,

Fake phone calls, cut the theatrics.

All he did was say “I’ll drive you home”.

By city hall where sinners dwell,

Sweet, discreet Virginia belle

Told the man “My name’s Ophelia Hughes.”

Clear as late September skies,

The harmless man was hypnotized,

And so the magnolias died with his youth.

She submits false virginity

When he admits his law degree,

And the green lights he’s seen from The Lord.

A case of willful ignorance,

She grins with glossy, crimson lips,

As if she could elude Elysian court.

Premeditated innocence,

So medicate his limerence,

And don’t you dare disclose you’re doing time.

Get high and dry against the wall,

You flimsy paper parasol,

Too delicate to commit such a crime.

He looks at her in lavender.

She simpers “Yes, I’m twenty, sir!”

She radiates an ultraviolet lie,

Breaks bonds within an honest town,

Breaks hearts of men who, from waist-down,

Appear too vital and divine to die.

Who would do for a good lord’s bride,

But superlative s**t, sanctified?

But docile proof that not all power is lost?

Such pretty, white, capricious skin,

He’d look heroic tucked within,

From half-filled hips to ankles neatly crossed.

Unfurled on his horizon, she

Must crucifix or fortune be,

Whichever keeps him noblest and most warm.

He offers gallant turns of phrase,

When, veiled behind her doe-like gaze,

Flickers the first glimpse of a deadly storm.

Piercing hail and roaring force.

Centuries drowned without remorse.

Thunderous waves high as the dawn of time.

Boiling brawn unseen before,

Which makes mere child’s play out of war.

Beneath her lashes stir seas dark as wine.

The good man made of mortal flesh

Sees vengeful gods beneath her breasts

With power that rends him, like her tanktop, small.

He sees a beast too wild to tame,

A violence with unflinching aim.

His back presses against proverbial walls.

And yet... if he did not exist,

This storm could have no catalyst.

Her eyes could not have darkened deep as sin.

For all its terror, beauty, wrath

The tempest on her warring path

Would know no path, nor purpose, without him.

Her heart is ancient, vicious, wild-

Within a body like a child’s,

Her fragile frame can do naught but react.

Her fury fleets- ephemeral.

She’s evergreen as emeralds.

The harmless man has won his power back.

And so great ships get lost at sea,

So rise and plummet dynasties,

So men and girls play games of give and take,

Liliths lick self-inflicted wounds,

Take noble lovers by new moons,

And all of history happens in their wake.

All this tragic, wicked dance

Is born within a single glance

Exchanged by strangers when first introduced.

Thus begins the dawn of man.

Thus begins the tale again.

Thus begins the fall of Ophelia Hughes.

Author's Note

I'm curious to hear folks' interpretations here- never once have I received an identical response. It's fascinating.

Also, forgive the gargantuan block of text. This is broken into tercets, I promise, but the internet will not comply with my rather unexperimental vision.