Unspoken Tears

                

The most unpleasantly cool hours of darkness, she lays unresponsive, cold, abandon, her thoughts tarnished. Shed tears which cloud her vision, now solid as ice, she cannot comprehend, and she is blind to witness.

 The web of lies, the snare that has trapped her her broken heart, now immersed within scarlet hues, lies within her open hand. It beats, but offers no life; it’s complete but so bruised and beaten. It resembles a fawn injected with buckshot, within unsullied emerald meadows; heavens first light cascading on its fragile insignificant body, beautiful, but no longer breathing or fleeting for its existence.

She loves with the deepest of love, but is condemned because she is out of the ordinary.  Passion, love and kindness brim over her being. She displays it in everything that she stands for.  Her love for others, she puts beyond her own desires, she does without as she cries into the darkest hours of the nightfall. All she desired in return was a sign from him, a gentle touch, to feel beautiful, appreciated in the eyes of her husband. He scrutinizes her moral values, squanders her love and compassion like a discarded fleeting thought, of what is right. Others say to her, she is beautiful, but he over looks her.  She stands before him, a naked vessel but he looks through her and sees himself, his needs, wants and desires.

Loving him is like breathing!  How is she supposed to stop?

 

 

©2010 Dani Thornotn-Stock

 

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