Tuesday, Jun. 03, 2003/10:14 pm

silently beautiful

you noticed the caption in tuesdays newspaper

flicking through with painted nails,

delicately spooning your morning cornflakes.

or low fat cereal bar with skinny latte.

[then a cigarette on the way out the door]

A story bolded next to a lonely monochrome picture.

studied by gossip judges in high-school court.

sitting on the bus at 8am.

a group of you with pinned or curled hair.

with silver round your lean wrists.

smelling of roses and spice.

'Such a tragic loss' you mourned.

whilst continuing to thumb over pages of cosmopolitan.

sketching out a bleak figure.

an angel of mercy, fictioned adventures of close bonds.

you all wondered how she had managed it.

with a knife or jaged razor.

numb blood staining cold bathroom tiles

maybe she'd slid the asprin from plastic,

not really realising where her mind was taking her.

you guessed with confidence,

gored and eccellerated, detailed with lust and kisses of death.

a fresh story to ponder over, filtering the hours.

/

Honestly, Truthfully,

behind the face you wore.

the glitter and blue sweeps of dust

You felt a twisted stab of guilt.

For the time you'd made fun of the mascara on her glasses.

The stagger in her step.

When she had asked you to borrow a pen during Geography.

You laughed with a no.

Said you didn't have one spare.

Then handed a pink nibbed biro to your friend opposite.

And tipped back in your chair with ease.

You didn't know,

how could you?

how could anyone?

splitting your bottom lip with perfect teeth.

/

a vase left on a forgotten windowsill.

sometimes you forgot her name.

a space deleted from existance.

dim red glow fading, furthur under light.

All faltering, darkening features missed.

her green eyes shadowing grey.

an empty seat at debate classes,

the increased absences on P.E days.

How she had stared out the window,

wanting to jump.

wandered down bleak corridors.

head held low, ready to dissolve.

screams hidden up her pulled down sleeves.

skin turning a pale pale white.

plain shirts becoming looser,

skirt a little more bunched up beneath cocktail sticks.

her voice a little quieter,

quieter still.

She cried when water fell.

and hung in the clouded background.

where she slipped from vision.

dissapeared to a ghostly figure.

Nobody realising that she had gone.

or,

that she had been there,

was it just your imagination..?

/

as fragile as glass,

as delicate as tears

a wilting wallflower

innocently aware you could crush her in your palms.

power on your side.

a gun in your jeans

One last push towards a shattered mirror.

Image crayoned and burned.

She never stared anyone in the face,

she wrote more than she talked,

scribbling on her hands.

Shaky lamp bulbs, wasps that pulled at buttons.

Tortutous insults ringing in her ears.

/

Beauty passed by,

ignored, dusted over with cotton.

rag doll next to the porcelains.

she was all wrong.

she didn't fit in,

perfectly.

next to your chiffon and dainty patterns.

no room on the bench,

for the shy girl with red clogs.

purple tinted grace.

deep glamour covered over.

Too late to call her back,

through the breeze.

carry on your way now.