Black Dahlia

From beneath the bell jar
A dahlia waits for something (anything) to happen,
And raindrop tears glisten from her black petals.

The bell jar should protect her
With its thorns of glass
But this (seemingly) innocuous armor
Is a condemnation:
All is silence
Except for the deafening
Beat of her pulse screaming
I am I am I am

Every moment
All she does is survive,
Breathing
i n. a n d. o u t
Her own air;
Not bleeding, not dying,
Which in some ways serve a better fate
Than not living at all.

Through her vacant, glassy eyes
The light is distorting
And she can't see her purpose
Or her escape.
(Black Dahlia shuts her eyes so
She doesn't have to see the void.)

Eventually she shies away from the sun
And stays to shadows,
No longer knowing how to live,
And slowly a dahlia wilts
From beneath the bell jar.