Poetry - The Crystalline Effect

It’s been a long, slow slide

To the depths of her soul

God, I wish I knew the point where she lost control

She moves slowly, she opens the blind

She looks out from her window, god knows what she will find

She listens for sounds of distant conversations

She has a memory of a time and place

But no consciousness of where she is now

She reads poetry she wrote long ago

She keeps words deep under the floor

She talks of secrets and desires,

Of triumphs and of falls

She bathes in pools of her reflection

She sees children in the dark

She waits for something she’s not sure of

Some kind of spark

Some kind of life that’s not hers

Some kind of something else

She’s a hundred million miles away

She writes poetry of places she’s been

She paints words all over the wall

She waits for something to enfold her

But she always needs more

Some kind of life that’s not her

Some kind of something else

On the centre of the mantle is a tiny wooden box

And she opens it so slowly and she sees all she has lost

It’s the only thing he gave her and she holds it in her hand

It’s a twisted, shattered, damaged broken heart