Perhaps you thought I didn’t,
But I swear I felt you gathering
The long-forgotten silkiness
Of what we once had meant…
As the legend begins lengthening
And blood begins to blacken now
I’ve faced the mirror
And almost smiled back.
She whispers to my memories:
I saw the silver tarnishing,
I’ve felt the embers smoldering,
Do you think you’ve kept them wondering?
Pastels can only do so much
To help a girl’s complexion here,
And you never thought me wrong before
For editing my fairytale.
She whispers to my memories:
You lost him in the reckoning-
His ivory keys were shattering,
You watched his quiet suffering…
Stop.
Not Fair.
Do you think I don’t remember the cold?
Do you think that your sickening, rollicking
Monstrous
Lullaby will ever send me to sleep?
I remember the silent blood on the staunch ivory keys,
Smearing from his near-motionless fingertips,
The cold blue eyes, hardly alive,
And the unblemished, varnished smile
With his porcelain face,
And how he refused to be gone,
How he refused to die…
We were always much too grim
For the Grimm brothers.
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