The absence of fire

For a moment I thought I saw myself

In her dark glance, I saw myself—

But it was words alone that fell.

I thought I could hear me cry

When Mrs. Reed turned her care away from me.

Thinking of a ghost in that cold

Red room.

A ghost!

No one to hold but a doll,

A cold, silent, porcelain thrall.

I am a thrall.

Never have I read a love so tender.

Aches my mind with such sophistication,

Patience

Despite the pledge

Of Grace—

To end the love of taste

Beyond the objective

Choice of features sent,

The handsome face gives way

To a far greater man.

Oh,

But did my soul quiver

When he bit his lips.

The desperate hold

Within that —

Made me surrender reason.

Hope of all the words

That could’ve been said,

Done, went away in his step.

Never mind, I said, I'll never hook

Myself to ink and page…

But I am wholly caught.

~Caitlin Charlton ~

Here is what you all have asked for ☺️ please excuse the horrible voice. ♥️

A/N: At the time of writing this, the intensity of the narrative had me physically overwhelmed; I had to close the book on page 181 just to cool my body heat down. This poem is a record of that fever. Thank you for reading if you have journeyed this far. ♥️🤗🙏🏽🖤