allegory of cowardice.
She longs to tremble again
only enough to dream
knowing her fate is,
and will remain,
stone.
She is the fantasy
of never daring to tempt
her immovable ending
in a world
where eternal romances
only live in books
—and no one outlives them.
Her story
is a clause of marble
in the throat of time,
signed before fantasy
had a name.
Always on the same page,
she reads the mirror
for what cannot be said:
the unwritten
between the lines.