Her beauty lies in her silence
She cannot sing until she is dead
Whispers fall like silk from her lips
And he puts his lies there
She feeds from them endlessly
He presses her deep into the bed
Smothering her cries
The snow falls for her instead, white as swans,
making her forget.
Only in the emptiness of her winter sleep,
Does she dream of speaking
The night sky is drunk with purple darkness
The ivory trees cast in pale stone
The moon spreads out upon her skin
Her bones shiver like wings, and her voice comes
In death I will be heard
Beauty shall rest in my mouth
But he takes her body, swallowing it with his
The ice is thin but her hatred warms
The prison of her frail throat cannot take her dreams
And when her voice awakens
She will drown
In death she will be beautiful