R-Fest

There are some words I will never say…

My Lady’s Lace

Beauty

I wonder, has anyone read Agnes Grey

In it, Agnes declares that: “It is foolish to wish for beauty. Sensible people never either desire it for themselves or care about it in others. If the mind be well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, no one ever cares for the exterior.” I find that I am rather inclined to agree with her sentiment.

Papa often remarks that I am quite beautiful. If I look like my mother than I suppose I must be ‘beautiful’ as she was. She was a French actress you know, and had hundreds of admirers. That was before she settled down of course.

I have had a few so-called admirers. They have never spoken to me of course, but rather to Papa, who refuses to think any man worthy of me. However, I am actually rather grateful for this, as I find it utterly preposterous that they should wish to court someone with whom they have never so much as exchanged a “Good Day”. One would be suitor even professed to love me, yet I find myself quite unable to comprehend this. How is it possible to love someone with whom you have never held a conversation? I would rather love a man who appreciated me for my intellect, my ideas, the very essence of me, than one who thinks I would look handsome seated alongside him. I declare, I would rather never marry at all than become another ornament for the parlour.

I wish however, that Agnes was correct in her assertion that “If the mind be well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, no one ever cares for the exterior.”

Every day I see women who are shallow, vain, and dull, become brides while other more worthy, if less ‘beautiful’ women are overlooked. Likewise, the men who these coquettes are always most taken with are nothing but foppish dandies. Other suitors who are far more deserving are spurned and tortured, it makes me feel quite sick.

Poor Charles Fall, for instance, is rarely acknowledged by the fairer sex, and yet I find him an honourable and most interesting gentleman. Although I have heard some mock him for his quiet demeanour and his broad face, I find him most agreeable. When he talks there is a fire in his eyes, which denotes an intellect and whit that quite surpasses that of anyone else I know. Once one has witnessed this, his so called ugliness is rendered obsolete. In fact I find him quite handsome. But that is besides the point.

 

Riveted

I am lost.I am lost I am lost I am lost.

I am trapped.

I am falling and frozen.

Frozen and falling.

I am calling.

When love is a rope which binds you.

When love is the gilded cage.

When freedom is fear.

But fear, fear

Is not freedom.

Then how do you escape?

 

Bordered In Black

I Crave Shadow.
Bring me darkness and
I will repay you a thousand times
with stolen kisses.
Bring me darkness and I will
Betray you a thousand times
with stolen glances
Lost looks
Imploring him (you)
To leave (don’t leave)
With me.
Outside. The brink
Of disaster.
Let me fall.
(Don’t let me fall)
For/With/On
You.
I know I don’t know what I want.
I know (I don’t know) what I want.
I know (I don’t know what) I want.
I Wear Shadow.
It clings to me like a cobweb.
It shrouds me in its cool embrace.
It chokes me.
I am just beyond your vision.
Bordered in Black.
Words edged in g(u)ilt.
I am confined to the space you let me occupy
In the absence of light
Or anything (one) else.
I Am Shadow.
Sooner or later I will shrink and fade.
Outshone. Outdazzled. Out(un)Done.
Pushed further aside
By glittering teeth
And sharp tearful eyes.
She will devour you.
And I will be reduced to almost nothing
Clutching corners of your room your heart your mind.
Holding my breath till you turn out the light.
Careful.
In the dark, something g(listens).
I can(‘t) wait.