High Strings

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Her eyes are deep
Like the unknown sea
Of doubt and despair
Of destiny and fantasy

She smiles like the sun
Sighs like the gentle wind
Her mind, though, is black and white
And her heart is rather dim

She feigns acute pain
Before her life has even begun
She isn’t too bad though
She is just high strung

Her touch is sweet
And her hair moves like the breeze
But not many have been charmed
By the grace of an empty leaf

She’d hold your hand
Like in her world you matter the most
But when the lights go up
She vanishes like a ghost

She loves like a goddess
Of your thousand splendid suns
And you wonder if you’re falling in love
Even though she is so high strung

She looks so beautiful
Perched at the edge of her faithful mirror
You almost ignore the imperfect
Way she holds the scissors

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You shower her with gifts
She pretends it turns her on
Smiles her empty smile
When you hand over the latest Louis Vuitton

And when the day she walks away
Leaving your heart tortured and broken
You wonder if it was because of you
Or was she just high strung

A Suitable Girl

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For when you think I’m too old
To love and to have and to hold
Your Dorian laughs in his frame
As cracks appear across his face

For when you tell me I should cook
And not be reading so many books
Your kitchen sink mocks you
When everyday your dinner gets brutally bruised

For when you chide me for being too loud
And ask me to hold my tongue in a crowd
You know not how your friends oblige
By laughing when you really make them cry

For when you wonder if I’d be a good trophy
Me, with my innate lack of propriety
Your workplace thanks heavens
When you step away from matters of importance

For when you check if I’m “suitable”
If I’m a good enough “marriage material”
Alas! You are not able to see
You are not good enough for me!

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Sepulcher

Standing atop the hill
Where she fell
Where her beauty and her soul
In the sunlight do dwell

It is here that I walk
Alone until its dark
Then I lose myself
And my mind falls apart

Did they take her
Up this clumsy way
In a lonesome hearse
On a cold winter day

Or did they let her headless
Lump rot, in the sun
And then build a sepulcher
And call her “the one”

I wonder what that angel thought
The one whose smile is etched in stone
Deep down she might have cried
For the girl who died alone

These walls grim at my touch
Behind the dirt and grime
Tell a tale of a beauty
That stood the test of time

She was a thought
A story to the empty hearts
A few worthy words
Painted into someone’s art

One day she fell in love
With the mirrored reflection
Of her own beauty
And its flawed perfection

When I now look upon
The same silver screen
It simply shines the mighty road
And sees right through me

That life that went away
Silently in a guillotine
It still lurks around here
Floating on the night breeze

Today she lies
A pile of broken bones
Among friends and foes
Buried under the same stone

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***

I walk down the path
Passing by each goodbye
Walking among the hearts I broke
and those who made me cry

I walk the empty roads
Till dusk beckons me home
I look around at the last of light
Back into my sepulcher I go….