House of Silk, House of Stone
In this house of silk and lace
I am not lonely.
I am not angry.
Windows are my face.
My mother is with me.
My sisters are smiling
and laid out before me
I see my bride.
Leather on my feet.
Satin fingers gently holding
my softest places.
Unwrapping them sweetly
like petals unfolding at night.
In this house of sand and stone
I am alone. I am alone.
Curtains drawn and tied in place
I am peeking through windows.
My mother is empty.
My sisters are hungry
and my bride has never been born.
Leather on my feet.
Wooden fingers trying to keep me.
Scratching the wounds of my body.
Weaving wool all around me
keeping me safely outside.