Lady of Orléans

How nonchalant her steps

between the open shutters

and elongated shadows

he carries her cello

and memories of former lovers

willingly, though, in the aftermath,

not quite so

unfalteringly.

Moonlight wears dull

The once lustrous stone

without a sound

her weight, no less to bare,

groans in languid tones

between the shackles

and alleyways

of dusk

over the impromptu

melody of her smile;

his lust

clicks to the

metronome

beat of her heart -

though never in sync -

always “the last man on Earth”

apart.

‘Were I this cello,

I would be content,’

he thinks, as they walk.

There would be no need for breath,

swallowed by her arms and legs,

death would be a mere inconvenience

like the need to talk

when in truth,

everything’s been said.

©️DMM

#Inspirational_Photograph by @rachelrmk (with permission).