Oft at night when she sleeps,
Gods watch for nightmares that never come,
she sleeps at peace, rising from the Hell within,
a hell which she has overcome.
Many years passed when he was buried,
some say, within his body, her spirit's clasped,
becoming dead by choice not force,
refusing life to take its course,
she took life away from destiny's grasp.
His images which adorned her every room,
now lie in a pile neatly wrapped,
beside his clothes and his shoes,
in a hidden cupboard,for eternity trapped.
Her face which reflected his,
now is with a smile painted,
used to ward off painful questions,
bringing out memories tainted.
Every visitor is welcomed,
a grand tour of her new life,
treating them to a spirit bought,
from the store where they mend broken wives.
Perhaps a day will dawn,
when scorning the denial,
you will open your arms to fate,
and stand cuffed at the trial,
where the 12 months will be jury,
witness the recovery that cometh after the fury.
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