Isabella (P)

She sits by her reflection,
Her face a pale complexion,
The graven image of death


(A knock at the door)


Her corset locked around her
She tightens though it may hurt
To eradicate the breath


(As before, a knock at the door)


She smells of the graveyard at night,
Of bones so pearly white,
And of a losing army's trench


(As before a knock at the door)


So she puts on perfumes from india
China and malaysia,
To cover up the stench


(As before, a knock at the door)


She has two glass eyes to fill
The large and black eye sockets,
Voids that stare off into space


(Knocking once more, at the door)


'Isabella my love,are you there?'
A slow reply from the girl inside
'Im just putting on my face'