S-S-SPIRALLING
'S-S-Sissy, S-S-Sissy!'
He stutters my name with his sibilant hiss,
Words convoluted, love amiss,
Because my name is Hermione...
Identity desecrated I'm called by my other, named for my mother,
Who is my jailer, traversing this creeping mansion?
An excellent match, my guardians assured,
He sought them- they procured.
A dress already owned, Art Deco and old-fashioned,
A wedding band too, it fitted as if made,
What a curious thing to do!
Provide for a bride before finding a bride!
Did as I was bid, heart s-s-spiralling away,
That singular glint in his eyes; marked curiosity,
My wedding night whispering my name (her name),
Locked and ignored inside, except when he needed release.
Wandering around I found,
A portrait of my mother, painted by my father,
At our piano, way before they died,
S-s-savage memories.
Too s-s-scared of being pinched,
Rolling flesh between his fingers,
Though he still murmured her in my ear,
His bitterness projected at me.
The housekeeper told he was engaged to be wed,
Uninspired she cancelled just before the banns,
Ran with my father, whose face I wear,
Punished for their s-s-sins.
I found an old lamp, his weakness his cups,
Unconscious for hours, the housekeeper matching,
Wandering the Heath at night for companionship,
The nightwatchman in his bothy.
But he must have known, s-s-scratches at the door,
In flagrante delicto,
S-s-swelling in my tummy but my lord used a contraption,
Disgusting, reusable, s-s-spiralling his way.
He has power- my lover disappeared,
S-s-slipped me an overdose they said,
But I will haunt him- he took everything from me,
S-s-subtly- enough to make him think he's going mad.
An object disappearing here, a curtain floating there; a midnight taunt in his ear,
Bought his own chair- a Bauhaus,
A nest of tables for his beating tattoo fingers,
For when his deserved psychiatrist visits.
But I continued my vial of vengeance,
Until all left, smeared by association unneeded,
He now converses with a penguin in the corner- it's not real!
The asylum beckons- but I will haunt and never let up.
My name is Hermione, now that's the only name he ever whispers,
'Leave me be, Hermione! Leave me be, Hermione!'
S-s-spiralling into that monochrome vortex- respect gained,
But I will never stop until 'til his death takes its own s-s-sweet toll.
The procured wedding dress...
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