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| images courtesy of Ella Wilson |
This empty shell she called her home
She roams her hell after the gloam
Imprisoned within as a lover's possesion
"I am not free; my heart is chained
By jealousy, my love constrained."
By his hand she died after making confession.
submitted for Thursday Think Tank, #69, Haunted Houses, at Poets United
and In-form Poet: Tri-Coupled Sestet, at Poetic Bloomings
12 comments:
yikes....perhaps she should have kept her mouth shut...
Powerful and so hauntingly sad! Well Done~
Poor woman. Unfortunately there are so many women like her.
BTW You've used an interesting form of poetry.
scary...
excellent use of the form
A beautiful and chilling description.
Chilling!
Oh, my! She should have kept her deeds to herself! Shivery!
A neat solution to the challenge. Like it very much.
Excellent scary write!
peripherals
That is exactly how I imagine it feels to live in a big house after a loved one passed on there. Eerie!
love never dies, it stiffens its grip
great poem
But...I like that house!
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