Beneath the Window

Hers was the face in the window
The pale mask dividing the world from her secrets
As it gazed waxlike o'er the sprawl of midnight
And feverishly bound the darkness behind
So that naught should cross those boundaries
Thus the long hour sealed with practiced calm
Yet to the second did the shadows reign
And 'neath the white dwelled demons
Numbering each tortured length of time.

Hers was the voice on the phone
That answered the call in the dark of the night
And waxed lyrical the future
Paving her words with all truths unspoken
For the ears of those who might deal justice
While the body lay broken 'neath her window
And though the moon sheltered her eyes from the sight
The stars gave no token.

Hers were the eyes in the shadows
Replacing the glow of the hidden spheres
As they refused to cast light on the deed
That found its action in the heat of her hands
And its ghosts in the breath of her lies
Though Death hunted onwards through the dark
He found no swing of the scythe more pleasurable
Than that of the prize 'neath her window.

Hers was the heart 'neath the floorboards
That beat soundless rhythms in the dark
Music by which knives dance through flesh and bone
To which blood pales upon the ground
And those willingly hunted give sway
Under the judge's hammer
Where souls are crushed to brew heady concoctions
Of the Devil's very own make.

Hers were the hands on the keyboard
Crossing o'er white and black alike
Allowing the silence to die writhing on the notes
As easily as the purity of the soul could permit
While the cursed weight lay empty 'neath the music
And mingled fading heat with that tainted sound
An exchange forbidding eyes to the morbid sensuality
The last 'tween the night within and beyond the threshold
For hers were the arms embracing light
The crimson on his lips
And below the window with limbs spread to catch the sun
Still the crimson on his breast.


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