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The Lady Doesn't Live Here Anymore

She walked in solitude without escape
the promise of a self destroyed by rape
the second chance she took, two years of bliss
his whisper "wish my wife could love like this"

And so a special need became her dream
and wove itself 'til nowhere showed a seam,
and while she built a cell to hide away
in silent stealth it strengthened night by day.

The years went by in time with only friends
if it is not begun, it cannot end,
no roses ever given in life's dance
no man who thought her worth a second glance

But, then a man she met in cyber space
who saw beneath the mask that she had traced
and slowly o'er the nights he touched her soul,
then whispered it was she who made him whole.

And ev'ry night he clothed her with sweet hope,
that bound her to him with a velvet rope
then gently added passion to their talk
woven in the moonlit dreams they'd walk.

Week by week he stroked a burning fire
and built a passion flaming with desire
twisted tight with love inside her mind
intangible and ever undefined.

And once he had destroyed her last control
he placed her in submission as her role
soft pleading in the lust to feel his hands
he left her there untouched, unfilled demands.

Alone, on fire and raging in the trap
deep anger traces lines upon the map
of searing passion driving her insane
mind screaming for a sucres from the pain.

Til blackness rode the woman that he drew,
despair within her heart that daily grew,
a void and death that whispered in sweet voice
or take a path that need had forced as choice.

The Lady doesn't live there anymore,
the woman that she was is now a whore,
and lust is all the love now lying dead,
a body crawls in any male's bed.©
~RAC~3/29/2000~