THE BOX AT HER FEET
Carries her heart in a cardboard box.The shell of a woman broken and lost:
Pulsing with life, the jewel sits
inside,
Trading her love and her life for
her pride.
A warrior once tough, sturdy and
strong,
Turned to ashes when the love of
her life
Had since gone.
Heartbroken and sorry for the
seeds she had sown
Sobbing for treasures,
She no longer owns.
In the frozen moonlight she
stands, wounded and pleading,
Giving anything for a new life
worth the leading.
She laid her broken dreams at the
souls of her feet,
A pain rose in her gut with every
heartbeat.
Protecting the most valuable
piece of her soul,
Mourning her life’s blood
Alone in the cold.
Through the forest he came on
that dark, winter’s night,
Demanding, “Trade your humanity
for my life.”
Their eyes met and held in a
smoldering stare,
It was not for her, for whom he
would care.
The darkness was charming, but
stealing her will,
Gifts she possessed,
He would take or would kill.
He would not be denied; it showed
on his face,
His fangs were her wounds she
needed to embrace.
With hope all but gone: her tears
to be damned,
The undead snatched her heart and
took her life,
- Under his command.
Though she was human, she survived
the nightmare,
She would gain strength and
courage
Or drown in despair?
Was it fate that brought a
shattered life and the life-less to meet?
Or the screams emanating from the
box at her feet.
Laura Chowanski 2/14/11
