She Once Spoke

She once spoke 

of the things beyond her reach, 

the swooning harps 

whose strings 

called her name 

from misty shores of 

a treasure-chest fantasy, 

“Hail Mary” lullabies frothing on 

her lips, 

the people she ought to know 

who left long ago. 

The capsized mirror glass 

leaves tumbleweed slim gilt 

souls that hide, 

like her, 

beneath translucent powder-puff 

happiness - 

kind words from a stranger. 

Obsession is guilty. 

She walks between 

Passion and 

Poetry, 

tries between Love and 

what is not. 

She is noticed from behind 

her tender-breath smile, 

wanting to say the words 

that will never come. 

The eggs on her plate turn mushy, 

the coffee in her cup going grey, 

she notices the new day coming: 

but her tongue has been stripped away.