She

What lies in us all

I was sure that she was breathing, 

She who sat somber within, 

Aware of her own life leaving, 

As the embers sparked again, 

She of pale beauty, made of stone, 

Who’s touch was always cold, 

The dowager of alabaster, 

heart frigid and old, 

I was sure she wouldn’t stay long, 

In my prison made of gold, 

She who gripped my being, 

And neglected to let go, 

She who took up residence, 

In the center of my soul, 

The Duchess of betrayal, 

Smiling venomously so, 

I was sure she was a figment, 

Born from shadows of my heart, 

She who took my memories, 

And tore them all apart, 

And sacrificed my piece of mind, 

For the torture she calls art, 

The Inquisitor of everything, 

Vile, jealous, and smart, 

I was sure that she was nothing, 

She who simply couldn't be, 

No more real than the visions, 

That I see in my dreams, 

She of tattered figments, 

Cloaked in homemade misery, 

The Vagabond of hearts, 

Broken, distant, mystery 

it was true that she was nothing, 

She fragile as silk, 

The whisper in the night, 

The moon the shade of milk, 

The mist between my lips, 

The air between my fingers, 

The voices in my head, 

The feelings that still linger, 

I know I cannot stifle, 

She the salt within my sweat, 

The venom on my tongue, 

The things I can't forget, 

So I keep her in my prison, 

The corners of my mind, 

So I'm left without her presence, 

Joyful, pleasant, kind

Reviews

[emipoemi]

Outstanding imagery, fantastic narrative, juicy lines and amazing sound work art at play throughout this poem. The only aspect on which it falls flat is musicality. Some lines don't have enough syllables to flow smoothly, others try to be spondaic but the poem since the start had set no precedent for spondees, so therefore is unable to hold them. Also, "broken", not "borken" (xp). But everything else is brilliant, and the ending is absolutely killer. Well done!