Whisperings

She looks quite awful today.
The bad kinda dark and moody.
She looks like a flower today.
Very young and insincere.
Vain in the worst possible ways,she is, and yet as broken as the crookedest of the mirrors, she is.

She hates you.
No, she really isn't indifferent. She hates you, is what she does.
Carefully and with a lot of effort, she hates you.

She likes to sing , you know.
Very often , that is, and a sad song, you know.
She's not sad, she says.
"No reason to be , you know!"
And yet in the brightest of fire burns her brown eyes.
She's glad you cant see them , you know.

Grey sunshine and a tender fire by the woods.
Off and on and very magnificently she grows into a dire wound.
Only to the sound of the rain she lets you in .
Rests your head onto her heaving bosom and sings to you the lullaby of a far off dream.
She takes your hand and promises you forever and beyond!
She waits for you the next century and a half.

She sits by the window and watches the night turn light blue.
Its only been a quarter, you know!