What merriments brought to her
was a sweet ache
in them phalanges
mild yet constant
When she crafted a sumptuous frippery
for her daughter in the name of
a colorful soiree,
the pain was there.
Ever so mild.
Mild yet constant.
When the needle sank into the callus,
shooting through the pores,
her fingers bled.
Bled on the corset.
And turned it red.
Blows were blown.
But did no good.
And only made the scarlet mess
ever so eternal
Tears were poured.
But made no difference.
And only turned it
a lighter red.
She embellishes the corset
with clotted beads.
Ripened cherries,
she calls them.
Zuria
Jan 17, 2022
©zuriasays
Z