Trauma.

I found you unconscious,
foaming at the mouth.
Failed to resuscitate you,
before my screams filled the house.
You were more than my sister,
you were my confidante, as well.
And since you crossed over,
my life has been Hell.
At least we were together,
holding hands,
for a quarter of a century.
All I can do now is accept that
you are no longer here with me.

Arachne.

Carrying her sorrows in silken sac,
unwavering whilst weaving wildly.
Under sombre sun and callous cloud,
she spits and hisses, feeling jilted.

Centuries since she's been hopeful,
eight eyes, wide open, filled with wonder.
Mourning every almost happy ending
crushed each time she lost a blessing.

Scarlet letters sealed her fate as a spinster,
wrongfully accused of eating men for dinner.
Society classified her as a sinner,

once jade and emerald, now a black widow.

So she spun her salience armed for battle;
no army could have anticipated her arrival.
Adorned in a coat made of her ex-lovers;
Hell hath no fury like the venom inside her.

Circonflexe

His arms unencumbered me,
removing all signs of weakness,
seasick though I was,
I somehow survived through stormy season. 

A whisper, a glimmer;
strategic breaths that kissed my neck.
A runner, a sprinter,
only he could rescue me from wreck. 

Inside my tattered mind,
two wrongs could never make a right,
until he blessed me with his Francophony
that made me blossom overnight.