He was a light bulb portraying the sun, his abundance of light giving illusion of warmth, of which there was little to none.
To strangers he beamed radiantly, they allowed him to serve as his guide, never knowing the light dimmed behind closed doors and that somehow there was no place colder than by his side.
There was a crack in a gilded vase proudly displayed in his grand hall. He quickly turned it away from his guests and called for his porcelain doll.
She hung off his arm and spoke her first lie ("It's really a pleasure to meet you"). There was a glint of something not right in her eyes and the desire to quit the deceit grew.
But she kept up the act in this beautiful cage, and then once his guests left she retreated backstage.
The Light Lord followed.
Her Spotlight grew hotter, more aggressive, less flattering. He threw off his princely facade. And his guests never knew what happened behind the curtain shortly after they were asked to applaud.
YOU ARE READING
Murmurings of a Once Invisible Girl
PoetryJust a collection of little free writes I've done recently or in the past, relating to my life, sorted chronologically by what time they relate to. Some are poems, others are more like open letters, and most of them reference one another in some way...
