I wear the evening in my hair,
and under my skin, the slow
velvet
of a woman
who has outlived her own innocence.
My lips are wine-dark,
my eyes
two black roses refusing the season.
I have learned the language
of marble,
the patience of pearls, and
the quiet violence
of a hand resting upon a throne.
Death does not frighten me.
I have seen it flowering
in gardens,
felt its shadow passing
through curtains,
I have heard it breathing
in the hollow
between one heartbeat and the next.
I know it is no conqueror,
but an old lover who waits
without flowers,
who knows the names of every woman
buried
beneath her beauty,
every dream sacrificed at the altar of duty.
And still, I adorn myself in crimson,
perfume my wrists with roses,
and allow time
to unfasten every jewel I own.
I was never made to fade quietly.
For I’m the last rose of House Capulet,
born of thorns,
raised under a gilded sky
and even then—
under dire circumstances,
I shall make darkness bow before me.
Photo credits: Immersion by Aaron Westerberg Oil 22 x 24, Pinterest
Merril hosts at dVerse where she invites us to write from the perspective
of a secondary character, I chose Lady Capulet from “Romeo and Juliet.”🌹
Posted for Poetics: Secondary as Primary @dVerse Poets Pub
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