The picture rests atop a pristine ivory canvas, Strokes of ebony ink rippling across its surface, Shallow raven black streams that weave together An ornate portrait of a not so distant past Within its little hidden details, the story Of a once happy family slowly unravels
So, with a small, but knowing smile, The girl always thinks to herself, "It's okay, you don't have to love me."
Porcelain limbs bound by silk chains, Button eyes masked with velvet fabric Bathed in the deepest hue of scarlet Mouth sealed, stitch by stitch, Never will it speak again
Carried on a gentle breeze, Cherry blossoms drift down, Spinning in fragrant clusters
In the silent sanctity of night, I shed secrets like a serpent Discards its used flesh