Drawing rubies.

When lead replaces the marrow of your skeleton, how do you carry on with the symphony of fake emotions

She stands; an elegant little liar,
her veil has turned physical as it obscures her from view.
it falls fluid, framing her glassy eyes.
Covering the truth she dare not admit.
It covers the absent smile;
the eyes that express no emotion.

Her devoid self chastely wraps itself around
the victim she has chosen.
He stands, proud chest puffed out:
a display of masculine arrogance,
her feathers barely stir.
He no longer grates against aggravation in her bones.

Her trophy glistens in the dark,
hidden beneath translucent depths.
Sometimes she plunges her deadened hands into the cold,
and her fingers close around that little stone.
Sharp and cool it draws rubies from her frigid skin.
The ragged edges pull forth memories of a forgotten past.

Her crimson lips seduce
those she does not care for.
Her body is her weapon.
As disguised malice pours out from her frozen thorns,
she recites the lines printed in her mind.
To the world they hold the meaning of compassion,

to her they hold the lock to her metallic cage.
Walking with hands tied behind her back
she shuffles to the executioners block.
Her silence holds no sadness,
worried glances are shared by those who hear
that meaningless chant.

But he does not notice,
so long it has been since love touched the atoms upon his flesh,
that he no longer knows what warmth is missing
from his ice-queen's touch.
Her mocking demons twirl just out of reach.
A growl threatens to break down the barrier of her lips.

Not one to give in her crimson desire is turned crystal.
Locked in her hatred, her emotion;
dwindles, extinguished by the cool balm of her forked tongue,
The flames which, threatened to dance in her eyes,
are gone, no evidence remains.
But the half-moons of putrescent flesh.

Her chassis is putrid.
Marrow hollowed lead replaces nutrition,
perfect weight for a drowned suicide.
A smile twitches against her ribcage,
she allows herself the idea of relief.
But not for long as she turns to her second trophy.

Her crimson crystals lean towards his human form,
she barely ghosts across his lively membranes.
Even that contact sickens her.
Iron is repulsed by his attraction.
With the action of finality she blooms.
Her petals turn ash, and she falls.

Into darkness her moist stone glows.
Her hands grasp for the last time,
petals drift around her, burying her in clouds.
A tear gathers in the corner of her eye,
emotion wells, in time for her farewell.
As she allows herself to drown, the lead turns to light and she is free.

Reviews

[Sher{alynn} Veron{ica}]

Beautiful and Beastly take on the ice queen

[Nobody.]

Wow. Images abound. Darkness slithers the page. I adored it from beginning to end.
(Stanza:3, Line:1, Word:2-I think it should be glistens.)
Cheers!
R.G.