|
She knew from time and cant and place
The glossary of wayward glance,
She felt their eyes fly past her face
To others in their pretty dance.
She smiled a smile which none could see
Then wept a single cloistered tear
For all the joy that couldn't be,
For piercing patterns year on year.
Next anger glowed and hatred rose,
Ophelia's flowers graced her face
So she could float in dark repose
Upon a deadened heartless space.
Beauty is, not beauty does,
When judgment doles out twisted loves. |
