The daylight sun shines on my shameful face while my tired, gray eyes turn down, being careful to not meet his face.
I am a partner in deceit,
tempting my master with my beauty, innocence and grace.
My beauty struck him, like electricity through a wire, I livened him and his soul was on fire.
His soft fingertips thumbed over my smooth and delicate face, circling my lips,
slowly…
my face pressed lightly against his.
You dazzled me with your gifts, caressing my hands, stroking my silver blond hair, and the rounded white jewel, our pearl.
I told tales as tall as cliffs to hide the shame of that heartbreaking day, forever walking with the ghost.
My master and I are finished.
The act of deceit is now complete.


I am a victim of torture,
my legs are battered
and bruised.
My back is tattered and torn, whipped and worn
With wrinkled, wet fingers I scrub and scrub the filthy floors.
Their forceful, angry, harsh words like the whooping wind in the winter,
beat me worse than the lashing of his whip.
Unable to fight against it, I nod my head and say “yes sir”.
Full of envy, I watch jealously as children in the market hop and run, naïve to the ugly world.
My torture is done as the day is dying.

I am a wretched, lonely heart,
reduced to crumbled and crinkly leaves on the cracked streets.
You were my love, the ambrosia of my life.
You were my one and only,
my husband.
Your brown eyes made me smile,
Your warm arms kept me safe,
And your kisses made my world spin.
But, I let you go softly into the glittering night sky, giving up on you.
I look now, at that awful pearl earring,
and remember the pain it caused once I clasped it tightly in my weary hands.
Even though you are a teardrop from the moon, you are nothing more to me than fierce flames of a blazing fire.
I’m gone, just ashes from the fire.