Love, sorrow

The Invisible Woman | Poetry

My feet are strewn with rose petals;
Confetti rains on my jeweled crown;
Graces pour in on my sharp ears -
My cheeks beam in golden brown.
From farthest corners I hear praises;
Distasteful words are just a few;
I sit in silence in your presence -
But I hear no word from you.

I dressed in the finest yarn of silk; 
I wore my hair in a flowing knot;
Though the mirror didn't disappoint -
To laud me, once again, you forgot.
I turned heads wherever I walked;
I strutted about in sparkling shoes; 
Those awed gazes meant nothing -
For they did not come from you.

You spoke of poetry you composed;
For your many beloveds of old;
With letters, roses, hugs and kisses - 
You robed them in purest gold. 
When I flaunt my finest jewellery,
Dazzle in pearls and sapphire blue,
They blind the rich, royal and elite - 
But their light doesn't reach you.

You maintain your cone of silence;
Nothing beyond making quick love;
I wonder why you never let me go -
As I stare at the blank space above.
I gift you my love, time and youth;
I glorify our love in shades of hue;
When I ask you what is so wrong - 
Your answers are short and few.

You say your feelings do not waver; 
Your mind is as firm as a solid rock;
I say I'm weary of your discrepancies -
You react in utter disbelief and shock!
We burn out in the trying test of fire;
Together, we barely make it through;
While I perish in the scorching flames -
I’ll know I was never meant for you.

Β© Copyright: Leah Chrestien. August 2021.  The post The Invisible Woman | Poetry first appeared on The Ecstatic Storyteller. The author reserves the right to the content. No reproduction of content in any form is permitted without the prior consent of the author.

44 thoughts on “The Invisible Woman | Poetry”

    1. Ah that’s a question worth pondering upon. I would attribute it to years of indulgence into the writing style of some of my fav poets such as Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allan Poe, Tolkien and Keats. Thank you for reading. πŸ™‚

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