She Told Me

She Told Me

I spoke with a girl
in the years of my youth.
She told me many things,
some pleasant, some perplexing.
She was kind but disturbed,
and smiled while hiding pain.

She told me about her love of music.
And that when she played her violin,
each note cut her soul like a knife.
And how it released the turmoil,
like a river of pleasure in her veins.
She said it took her to another world.

She spoke often about her horses
and how she envied the freedom they had.
She spoke passionately of her desire
to join her stallions in the field.
To escape the shackles of language
and hatred of measurable time

She told me about her family orchard,
the precious red gems that laid in the trees,
and the deep jade that surrounded them.
She said the lush field didn’t end;
that a person could run forever
and never get tired, weary, or bored.

She came to me, a banshee in distress;
with deep black rivers down her cheeks.
She said she was trapped in mental prison,
but that I would see her face again.
I didn’t see her for nine moons,
and beasts gnawed on my sanity

I saw her again, a shadow of herself.
She came to me, spoke of her new baby sister.
I asked where she had gone off.
Her beautiful eyes became cold steel,
and her words sliced the humid air.
I knew not to ask again.

Her face didn’t show any happiness.
The expressions of joy now held fatigue.
She asked if I was as fearful as she was
of dreaming and losing oneself at night.
She wondered if I still believed
in monsters under the bed.

Then I laid some nights beside her
in the place she feared so much.
I knew her heart was heavy,
so we talked for hours and hours.
However, she didn’t mention
the bloody cloth beneath us.

I spoke with a girl
in the years of my youth.
She told me vexing things,
some delightful, some depressing.
She told me she had to save someone,
someone who wasn’t really her sister.

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Edit: I must thank Demeter for helping me proofread this.