Ophelia in Waiting.

They're killing her slowly
Under the pretence of curing her
Ophelia in waiting.

Skin stretched too taut
Cannot contain her
Needs release.

They took her kit away
Filed her fingernails
Denies her

The relief of pouring out
Bad blood, that's what
Her father said.

She misses the shiny razors
Packed in glossy pink
Anaemic blood.

To shed or shred her skin,
Re-invent herself
Once more.

Trapped inside a dying body
Pain dripping from
Useless fingers.

Poisoned organs seep
Inside the soul
Lay bare the lies.

She'll die in her deceit
Without one kiss
Of pure love.

A violet posy, gift of
Betrayal, daisies too
To twine

In her hair, let down now
From weakness
And no brush.

To tame the tangles, wrought
By violence one thing
She can control.

There will be no river, no
Languid pool to wash
Away sins.

Decked in flowers from
A plastic vase
Limbs in repose

She bares her teeth, seeks the
Blue veins, which will
Set her free.

Ophelia in waiting.

© Lisa Fuller. February 2006.