Peeling back petalled layers of a marbled mind
What would they find in her cobwebs of time... spinning?
Splintering, her porcelain, chipped veins burst with stars
Once illumined luminary now seeps through cracks
Stacked debris; her Luddite axe, bludgeoned own will
Sanguine lipstick distracts from her black and blue mind
Her libertine cursed dream, still singing on repeat
Beneath, her gentle pastel powder hues of hope
.
We only see her, the painted, not the painter
No more than, soiled rancid rag, masterpiece mistook
Cut, squeezed, spread thinly on paint’s palette; butcher’s block
Her regrets and blood still imbrued upon their hands
Fragranced sacrifice sheds herself; flagellation
Fine creases, chain-mailed lattice, she fills with french blanc
Madonna’s poised pose, her armoured ashen facade
Thumbed and burned at edges, she's jaded, played last card
.
Elfin, her beauty and her wisdom’s willowed tears
Adorned in white rusting roses, her heart’s graveyard
Commemorating, decorating her soul’s graves
Each she diligently dug, for herself, by hand
Slowly, she's unfurling; overstretched rubber band
Barred gateways to soul, her emerald eyes; fly traps
Piece by piece, she’s stuck each mulched mosaic tile back
Hindsight’s sad, smile... buttonhole rose never again
© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry