I.
The skies were grey the day
A white veil hung on my dresser
The flowers on the table were freshly-picked
From the garden, deprived of its roses
The glass is still half-full
A morning sliver of moon peaked through
The silver scrying bowl of the fortune teller
She wished me to smile and carry her gold tooth
For luck, in the coming trials, she said
I did not understand her, and threw the tooth
Away in the garden, at first light.
II.
The ring embraces my stout finger like a cat's tail
Warm and alive, your golden eyes
Charming and distracting me from beastly jaws
These talons and claws you hide from me
With silky whispers...
I wished for diamonds and you gathered suns
And placed them in your purse, priceless stars you said
And spoke to me of wealth, but love is kept
Like a trinket, together with jangling coins
I do not know you, only your money...
You kept me in a cage, a white dove
Whose wings are clipped with silver trappings
My heart is frail and small like a bird
With a broken voice, I cry
But silence rings like a deathknell
In the mansion we once called home.
III.
There are whispers in the corridors
I cannot imagine them to be ghosts
What haunts me most is my own soul
Full of half-empty dreams
Where is the light? Draw the curtains please, Maria.
The Virgin looks after me and my own
I pray, I pray
But in truth, I am already anticipating the worst.
IV.
The fortune teller has returned for her tooth
I go into the garden and find it in the clutches
Of a little bird slain by the housecat
I frown at this...waste...injustice...
I envy my tears their escape
The old woman carried them away in her worn thumb
She came to tell me that the moon had cried too,
In her silver scrying bowl, the night before my wedding day.
I gave her the tooth and told her to leave
Maria handed me a glass of water in a silver tray
I laughed mirthlessly, the glass is full yet empty
Empty...and I lock myself in the house all day.
Where is the light? Draw the curtains please, Maria.
The Virgin looks after me and my own
I pray, I pray
But in truth, I am already anticipating the worst.
There are whispers in the corridors
I cannot imagine them to be ghosts
What haunts me most is my own soul
Full of half-empty dreams
Love is a wasteland, and I am now an empty shell.
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