After Seeing Sylvia
The life and death of Sylvia brewing in my mind
Images of red rage and grey melancholy
On this blue bed I splay writing
Of despair; the need for air
When her Black Marauder left her
Told her they can no longer share
The powerful, passionate, destructive
Claim on each other's lives
By this he claimed her life
A box without windows, smelling faintly
Of cupcakes and tarts she baked all the time
To preoccupy her idle mind,
Of pungent, metal, extinguished flames
The symbol of the perfect housewife
A box without windows
The perfect end to this domesticity
Madness fueled by asphyxiating love
Dreamily slipping away from
Unbearable reality
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