glass slipper | poetry

waltz with a ghost | part two

gentle pitter patter

against the windows that barred her

from ending her misery

numbed her mind

until she could take no more

for now,

it was time to visit her beloved again

unsteady feet came to life

baby steps

towards something that held

insufferable amounts

of concentrated pain

which, with every sound

screamed harrowing warnings for her

to move on

trembling fingertips reached out

and brushed against the cold brass

welcoming the cool escape that it gifted

from her current hell

they lingered, relishing the curse

caressing the very venom

which had caused her anguish

sickeningly, lovingly

her hands slipped towards the bottom

and she knelt down

disdaining the harshness

of the cold, stone floor

that rather represented

this loathsome world

that she struggled to live in

the weight of the record

light, on its own

but weighed down by the burdens

of the past

that it selfishly retained

dragged her hand down

but against all of her will

-will that was admittedly dying-

she gathered herself

or rather, what was left of her

and slid it out of the case

oh, the irony

here she was,

freeing a symphony of agony

and not able to free herself

from this self-made hell