Facades for the Greater Good

Facades for the Greater Good

Author’s Note: This is an excerpt from a play I never finished. It is a conversation between two key players who had to role play in order to deceive.

 

Cedrick:

Ay Lesa I hoped I’d do you justice

My dramatics were subtle like a rose

Not such soft roses touched by unclean hands.

Tender like pups and steamy as the sand

My portrait of you as a whore I chose

I apologize for this injustice.

 

I am a bit overwhelmed these moments

They pass so slow in-between as if frozen

 

Icicles to the hands impure and filthy

My caress over them grows weary soon

I am but putty to these lands of menace

And puddles of sad tears inside penance

Intense are these moments yet opportune

If I’m not giddy, must I be guilty

 

Tis hand written, thus art in the shadows

‘twas a friendly way, but persistence shallows.-

 

-Tween the ovoid, melancholy rain drops

I amble in and out of teary eyes

a romantic nomad under brushwood.

I never guessed on how a tawdry should

Present itself within a blushed disguise

But nonetheless I put you on the top

 

A harlot’s mask to further guise a lady

And play a potion’s wish of malady.

 

Lesa:

 

A mere wisp of a girl no more I claim

My voice hoven out a much paler mauve

I skulk in and out of my character

to tempt the lines drawn up by barristers

My fingertips hint of prim and proper salve

Existence is so much more than a name.

 

My tragedy birth me a war room bed set,

where old photographs lest not let me forget.

 

A tortoise shell I draw myself to look

Protection from her torrid elements

pent aggression manifests with ease to place

tell my sorrows upon my wrinkled face

my squinting eyes hide and keep my skeletons

I am the queen yes but I need a rook

 

Sacrifice my ire for a graceful mantle

Where I keep my soul away from phantoms

 

But my war is for the red king’s sunsets

My treasure awaits me upon the stars

Am I remembered for things I did not do

Or immortalized for evil in the truth

My hand was played too well to receive scars

My father told me I paid my soldiers debt

 

My christening was blessed by holy water

the cleft upon my brow, my crown and altar.

 

Cedrick you tempt my rectitude brother

And guffaw at my pristine register

Yet follow around my pallor visage

Like a guideline written in a missive

But brother do not tempt the messenger

your reprieve shall be shown today at supper

 

the dinner bell rings, echoes about the shore

a succulent slice of life not to ignore.