I hear murmurings from the graveyard In the West of the town, Of married women, Dead and disappeared years ago. I wonder what a time they had, What a life they lived. Their husbands weep and weep and forget them, They praise how they looked after their women, Covering in glittery gold, Buying them silly silks, Giving makeup for a make-over. But still, the women murmur, Their voices seem to break the edges of tombs. They force the sun to dry out the flowers on them quickly. I lowered my face and listened to the tombs, It seems their lipstick was revolting, Their eyelashes lifted to show the desperation. They talk about the lies they had to live through, In fear of strangers' pointing fingers on getting a hint on their unhappy marriages. They call out their abusive partners, Told me to look for the broken bangles behind the kitchen for proof, The blood-stained clo...
Expressions penned with feathery Excalibur!
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