Meaningless Promise
The festering scent of perfume's beauty,
Drifting softly, plaguing nature's purity.
The cosmetic liquid stings her bare skin,
Neck growing red, yet it is mere punishment for her sin.
Rocking gently as the floorboards violently shake,
This facad disgusts her, it is inherently fake.
The visits from sympathisers, medical staff and old friends,
Yet deep down, they all know, that it was because of the end.
The end you ask? It's a simple matter you see...
She left her husband at the alter in nineteen eighty-three.
Now, in the subsequent twenty two years her heart has not beat,
Her mind is but an empty street, her touch has not even embraced heat.
The insatiable appetite of the guilt inside,
She truly loved him, she once cared to confide.
This enigma surrounding her wrinkled self is contradictory,
Inferiority of other's minds, she blamed when telling the story.
Moreover her physical deterioration, her rapid glaciation,
This immobile instantiation sewn into her human amalgamation.
Skin turned in on itself, dying, plagued grey,
Everyday is her mind's day, for her body is prey.
Limbs you ask? But a wish from her heart,
Legs have not moved since nineteen ninety two, the start.
Depression is the first assumption made,
However, this life is but a game she has played.
Substituted by her own choice, her own emotional injury,
The expansive fury that destroys all hope, surely?
While one could speculate forever and ever and day,
Where would it end? It was ultimately the world's way.
Dismay? But for what? She left... Not the other way around,
A resounding truth scattered in her webbed hair, allows itself to be found.
Standing in the doorway a tear protrudes from my eye,
A lone cry echoes through the cobwebbed room of lie.
Plates of dated food lay, seemingly melted upon the floor,
The wood covered in an odd liquid, blocking it's pore..
"I...I kne..w you would c..ome on this day...." she spoke slow.
"I knew he would arrive today" she spoke to thin air's shadow.
Catching her red dilluted eye, seeing her infinite fingernails,
But most of all seeing her once gleaming dress the colour of snails.
One's heart would fail upon seeing such a sight,
The being I once loved, now little more than a plight.
"I promised I would return..." I said uneasily,
A weez, one can assume was a laugh escaped measily.
A question I had thought of, planned, for over twenty years,
Gone in a blink of an eye, a new question, towards it my mind steers.
"Our wedding, your love for me... your promise...
Were those 4 years prior, really that meaningless?!"
As the exclamation mark was dotted in this depressing story,
Her time stood still... As her lungs emptied themselves slowly.
The air escaping moving in such a way created quite the spectacle,
The words "No, I will always love you" clouded the window, impeccable.
- Deviate
