Ophelia

Ophelia feels like falling apart
Climbs up on the ledge
of her broken heart

Her weary mind is ill at ease
The wind whips her dress
Around bony knees

Her toes grip the concrete, ornate balustrade
The cleanest of exits,
Nobody to wade

Into waters of crystal,
Dark, deep and cool.
To shuffle toe-tips
Through the silt of the pool.

Face pointing skywards, defiant, so proud
Arms outstretched, my dear, final bow.
As you sail smoothly southward, please remember me;
now, your Ophelia, at last will be free.


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