Monday, March 27, 2017


Gossamer Chains

Perfume lingered
Like a wisp of memory
In an aged mind.

A whisper
Spoken from yellowed pages,
Beamed like sun
And fell into darkness.

It was…
A distant dream,
An unfed hunger,
And a knife that glittered with a thousand blades.

Caught in cobwebs,
Of silver spinning, gossamer chains
And a perjured heart.

Dust covered
And love denied,
The room stood still
And did not breathe.

Tinkling keys
Of piano, haunted
With fragmented song
Sweeping the air like the sea, the shore.

Windows dressed
In ancient lace
With no face smiling
Behind the glass.

It was….
Beautiful, like birth
And terrible, like death.

Did not walk there
Nor did they visit,
For it was unhallowed ground.

Only he
Would dare the door
And turn the key.

Only he,
Of shattered soul
And broken mind
Would enter that sad room.

Standing lost
In strands of dust
And shells of spiders.

The sun
Would hit his face
And shine him
Back to yesterday.

In the middle
Of the floor, he stops
And listens to the whispers.

Smells the fragrance
Settled there
That surrounds him
Like soft arms.

So quiet
So unearthly quiet……
And no sob can disturb it.

The silk dress lying
On the bed,
The shoes, the purse,
The strings of pearls.

Wanting to be worn
Longing to be touched.

But he cannot bear
The sight of them
And backs away
To close the door.

Leaning once more
Without strength
As the key turns in the lock.

I ask him
Why he locks the door
Why he still lives
In this house.

Why he doesn’t
Burn it down
And run away forever?

Don’t you know? he always says
In a voice as thin as paper
Don’t you know, beloved one
That I’ll never let you go?

And so he doesn’t
And so I stay
Within the walls, behind the door.

Red wallpaper roses,
Faded to pink
Cover my face, conceal every trace
Of the girl who once loved the man with the key.

The man,
Who took my life from me
The man who’s more dead
Than I’ll ever be.

©by Voo
Sept 15, 2011
11:24 p.m.