The Moth Diaries, Poetry
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2005-07-01 19:37:47 (UTC)

Poem 66- Slaying Beauty

tonight ill spend my dreams leaning over the edge
ill spend my demons looking after a shatterd trust.
my path lies litterd with jealousy, revenge and lonliness,
but tonight as i look at my own face.....
pale and smoking, the ice of a perfect plane shimmers my
smooth canvas of supple skin.
those bitter eyes splashed with brushed black,
a renaissance romatic artist could paint no better,
no raven could match my alight hair,
dusk and dawn have no other, no call on my name-
my lips reflect poison, red berries are a symbol of danger
keep away, stray not here, eat not of me
so men beware, women also- for there is no differ in the
cheeks that never saw a blush, flutterd with a rose
oh what i would do for you,
to touch you, taste you, mould you.
looking at myself i see myself as you would, see who i am
its petrifying, soul defying- atom realising.
knowing who you are, and knowing it is someone bad,
someone who hurts and kills, slays and stakes.
plum hue hair and cave water eyes
tiny virgin lies ridden with hidden desires.
this face tells it all, cold with malice of spirit
peach formed breasts and smouldering hand lines,
the body of mine takes mine own breath from my body
in this mirror i see that smoke of breath disapitate from a
wanting mouth,
watch the cloud of pine rise high through disapearing glass.
it is not for me to judge those who surround me
and yet they leave me, i see them behind me
they are justly transfixed as i am.

© Lucy Griffin July05

sorry but i have to analyise this one!!! i love it :)
usually i write a poem and leave it up to the reader to
decide what it is about. but this time.... its got lots of
hidden messages, which i want you to see.

starts off by introducing a girl?woman? who doesnt know who
she is, she is alone and spends her time 'leaning over the
edge' of life. looking deep into deaths eyes. 'demons'
refers again to the depression, 'shatterd trust' is it
someone who broke her trust? someone she loved? or is it
more of she broke the trust she had in herself NOT to
become who she has become? jealous of who? herself? who she
should have been? some other who stole a lover? that would
fit in with the first broken trust idea.
and then we get to the mirror, she is looking at herself,
staring at her own face... wondering who she is?
'smoking', 'shimmers' saying the mirror is old and cracked?
her self image is distorted? she is crying so her tears
mess up the image?
she is beautiful.
black eyes, beautiful because they are real and not painted.
black hair, alight with candle flames?
beauty has no comparision 'dusk and dawn' she cares not for
human images of beauty? she makes her own? or she is more
beautiful than them? 'call on my name' does her name
matter? shakespear rose quote, romeo and juliet.
red lips, thats beauty, but doesnt red mean danger?
loves women? was it a woman who scored her? should every
human watch out for this girl/woman? she is saying that it
doesnt matter if you're m/f it all means nothing to her,
she'll love you still, they'll love you still. ill love you
pale cheeks, without roses pink blush, 'flutters with a
rose' but you can imagine her blushing long ago.
'oh what i would do for you,' who says this? her lover?
herself? why? do i say it? am i, the poet set motionless by
this image in my head? have i fallen in love with it? die
for you, maybe im saying i love beauty? or prehaps it is
more of a hatred of beauty? an oxymoron poem.
'mould you' but who would mould perfection? for what cause?
for what reason? or is it indeed that she only sees herself
as beauty and everyone else wants to mould her, or maybe
back to this distored image idea, she wants to mould
does she actually see who she is? or is someone looking
over her shoulder and seeing who they are? or seeing who
she is?
saying she is not a humane person, 'stake'= vampyre.
purple black hair, dark cold eyes, 'virgin lies' is she a
virign but doesnt look it? or does she have sex but says
she is a virgin? or is it another symbol? a metaphore? who
is this just how others perceive her.
'hand lines' her body makes you want to run your hand over
the smooth curve of her hip.
watches her own breath in the air, reflected in the mirror,
alive after-all maybe?
'cloud pine'= witch.
judge not, for this is not what the poem is about, and nor
is she.
'i see them behind me' how many people were in the mirror?

and thats all im saying :)

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