'Thornfield Hall' / 'Love Letter from a Ragdoll to her Skeleton Performer'
Photo by Jeffrey Wegrzyn on Unsplash
My heart is Thornfield Hall
and I am your ashen governess,
ventricles pounding stronger
behind a ribcage of poverty
and literature written in cursive.
Your inherited hallways
blaze with an inferno
of secrets and mystery,
sharper than pain and
there are too many losses in my life
to keep me from dismissing the echoes
that you left in the hollows
of my chambers. I will share
this collapsed mansion with you
that a foreign fire claimed and
I can guide you down the path
that has been spared.
I can walk at your pace,
there are no ghosts anymore-
dead embers of final secrets
sealed off from the one you love most.
~ December Lace