The Boudoir

She was a pallor woman, says the mirror on the Wall above her bureau: A tranquil woman too, Says her diary which lay near her bed on the Floor; and a deathless woman, says the crimson Stain upon her blouse that lay draped over a Chair in the corner of the room; but not one For sunlight, say the black velvet cloak that Lay neatly on her bed. She lived alone, says the empty room next to Hers; She was barren, says the long black Dress that was worn; money was not a problem, Says the antique furniture around the room; and Her heart cold, says the silence that floats Forever throughout the dusty bedchamber. Something went wrong, says the lingering scent Of death in the room. The faded painting -of Darkness on a cold winter night- on her Wall, say her life was an immoral one; untouched Morsels left on delicate china that sits on the End table, says she never felt hunger. And her Victims? Never to be found or seen again-their Bodies left lifeless on some unknown terrain. Something went wrong, they say. This is a dark poem in the form of "Abandoned Farmhouse" by Ted Kooser