Times
had
Changed
but
Things
were
Played
and
Broken Nevers
Lost Again
Bella blew beneath her blues. Bothered brothers bought broad brews.
Beckoned bellows blustered black. Blithered blessings beckoned back.
Simple Silus saw such sour, seeking sinking silence. Synched sinews stole something slickened, so sidled, seeming shrewd.
Yester’s yonder, yellowed yeast — yes — yikkering youths yelled, “Beast!”
“That’s The Beast—ma’am!”
Under the fortune of fellows, she fell. Farther then broken she left them a spell. Left into further—less than to black—never would nothing become of the lack. Christians were burning forever and now. Bella had done it too stricken; that cow; for he wasn’t coming not-never again. Twas that which had done it—how broken their sin.
Seen it, she made him: that boy deep inside. Silence was swollen (too swollen with pride). Bella knew something — oh, something quite fierce — for Bella had done it; his lips had been pierced.
Silence was Silus, so stapled, so sold, sickening Silus, she severed sin’s soul.
Bella knew better (better indeed) and glory was coming. Nigh wasn’t her steed. See; Silus was angry — so angry — of need and lopped from his garden; his garden of greed would lose towards the coming and loosing of shame. For Bella would rape him at his lonely game.
Told him, she had, of why he was mad. Doneth that way, in all she would say, so Silus would feel then break and congeal; he missed her the most, his holiest ghost. That man he could be was much less than free. For he bent the knee and saw it as glee.
Dangling threads; nights tossing bed—she whisked him quite gone from sorrow’s soul song—somedayhere, but not, each-every bad thought — never, but never — that woman he fraught.
Unfurled; she had been—undiscovered; the cost.
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