Twelve years, it's been.
Twelve years since the last human passed by this abandoned soddy.
Twelve years - too long for blood to remain fresh in my body.
I've since bathed in rain and clad myself in the dead woman's attire.
Those are her bones you see scattered there in that corner.
What prompted this poor woman to walk by this place, I think.
All dolled up to visit none. Cheeks stained red just for fun.
Came here for a lover, perhaps.
But none came after her. Not ever.
The speckled silver plane reflects the woman's lace gloves,
The most intricate of them all.
Patterns that hypnotize and make you want to kiss your own palms.
What good are these gloves if the hands in them aren't reflected?
What good is this body—this resurrected life—if it isn't loved and appreciated?
Silence. I hear footsteps approaching.
A man has chosen to stroll along this forgotten path.
Aha! It is time for my youth to be restored once again.
It is time to see my full reflection
Even if it's tainted red from another's affliction.
I shall hide my wrinkled face in this satin scarf, my withering body in these silk drapes.
And I shall lure the human in and spill the blood in his veins.
I emerge from the soddy - a shy maiden in white.
The man first stops in his steps, then ponders.
He carries a stick, this man, and wears glasses as thick and black as the night.
I raise a hand for him to see.
And I know he cannot.
So I drape my gloved fingers around his neck
To squeeze his youthful life out.
"Lily," he calls in the most soothing voice.
He takes my hands and brushes the white lace.
He falls to his knees. He says,
"I've found you at last."
Twelve years, it's been.
Twelve years since the last human passed by this abandoned soddy.
Twelve years since I've removed these gloves given by a blind man to his lady.
It is him you see sitting by my side
In these final moments before my last breath I sigh.