Faithless

The curve of her hip, outlined in anger and
Gold brocade
Swung forward.
She pressed her hands
Against the rough, gilded wood
Of his faithless doors.
There was no bowing, no graceful entrance for her
Golden body.
She looked slightly pale
Running her fingers along
That gold chain
Suddenly yellowed,
Dull in the glory of his
Blooming dawn
Spilling golden peach across the
Stone walls like a Messiah.
Her anger faded
At the sight of his
Gilded eyes
Outlined in
Soft kohl and thoughtless rage
Until her image came clear.
Woman.
Draped in reckless grace
And thin gold
Chains.

::mina::