Sitting there in the bliss of solitude,
She was telling things to herself.
When a prisoner of habit,
Set out to hunt a fresh rabbit.
Wearing the pretence of serenity of a shrine,
He said, “That dress doesn’t look good without the accessory of a smile.”
Expecting a giggle or a blush,
He stood there asking his inner laughter to hush.
With no expression she gazed at him,
Saw this man looking sleek and thin.
She took a deep breath,
Spoke softly as she tilted her head.
True, accessories are important,
Can’t you see the ones I have begotten?
This pearl of tear,
So expensive you can’t even afford to hear.
This red ruby of hurt,
Glows even when covered in dirt.
These diamonds and topaz,
Are made of fears that will last.
So you don’t tell me I have a jewel less,
And just leave me alone with my dress.