She buried the interiors of her mind with white sheets,
Not to protect or preserve what has always been in a bad
Condition, no, to remind her that these things won’t hurt her
Anymore, that they are covered up in plain sight, the life sucked out,
Unacknowledged. Sleep starts to frighten her, as they rise, carrying their linen
Like ghosts with open arms searching for the ties that once connected them.
Sickness made you kiss her. Envy made you bite her.
And you tried to pluck and pluck and pluck her out.
Destabilise her in her own unseen universe. Rid her of
Her words, her credibility. It’s all in her head, she cries all the time.
You terror-loving preacher. She took her own body back, released it
From your slander and reinvented herself after she survived you.
“Silvia” by Charles Edward Perugini (1839-1918)
