Thud-thud, thud-thud
Check if my heart still beats blood
I wrapped fingertips around
This beating ground
Only for the dark to swallow
Knuckles knock to check for hollow
Only for the wood to swallow
Only then I understood
That cherry grain
Scent of childhood
It wasn't air above but soil
And like milk curdling to a spoil
I thought "Well, mon père did want the best"
Once his little girl laid to rest
That cherry wood grain
Where my days remain
That cherry would stain
Had I not denied a man's hand
His finest lacquer kiln-dried
Yet scratched from the inside
His little girl
The unwilling bride
Lied, couldn't hide
And thus, died from pride
So here I lay still
Sunshine or chill
Pure silence or footsteps
Rotten by the loveless or the axe
Either way
I'd swipe away that man's hand again and again
A second for the price of millenia
or my nights moonless acorea
Pa, why did you want a dead woman?
When you could have had more than one daughter?
Why did that bastard pick up that weapon?
That disgusted to the point of slaughter?
Why did I have to fall for her ebony
That cherry wood grain
the domain of men
Not some lily-white clan
Rosarie, I'll be waiting for you
In sickness and in health
Till death do us tied
Forever by your side, Julia.
YOU ARE READING
Oeuvre & Oeuvre Again
PoetryA collection of poems for working out the fog in my mind and about my characters ♡♡
