Embroidery

As she decays into the null

Her memory dulls to grey

They mourn her briefly

For she was merely ornament

Embroidery along the edge

An outsider she remained, always

Her head rests alone

Dreaming sleepless nights beside

Solitude, her truest companion

Many appeared as suitors

But if ever embroidery spoke

A weary whisper she would groan

Of her only desire, a friend

But, they glorified mannequins, rejecting the woman. And so, her surface abstracted into burnished muse; her interior, arcane, embalmed with oleander and opaque jade.