Another tragedy?
Just what this world needs.
So she shredded up her paper heart and threw out her child valentines.
Grow up, she told herself. it's time for something new.
And she put on her new face and smiled convincingly.
My, how beautiful you can be when you feel no pain,
The jealous thought, and she believed it too.
And as a strange attraction swept her off her feet.
No romance, the holy book of lies instructed firmly.
What we need now is something more substantial and productive.
There is to be no more squandering of tears.
No more stargazing, wishes on candles, no more dreams of the ethereal.
And so she dried her eyes and did as she was bid
And slowly her heart turned to stone
And she no longer sheds tears,
Only numbers and statistics and cashmere vacations.
And she's alone now,
In her brick mansion filled with glass poetry and holy secrets,
A ruined priestess hidden in the back of the temple
Built for the gods of cellophane.