Can I Write To You

In his ruffled up shirt,
Her eyes glassed up with fear,
The cold metal stick in her hand,
And an ink bottle near,
Oh how he took it,
Proof spilled on the sheets,
Of White and Gold,
Now bloody pleats.
Fingers with slits marked bright,
As the black scribbled words,
Got blotted grey-light.
“Can I write to you?”
She wrote in trembling care,
“Can I write to you to tell you of the one I held dear?
In poetry my soul was placed in a glass case,
In song my body itself was embraced,
In fire a kiss turned love into hate,
Can I write to you and tell you my future fate?
That if my heart allowed my ears to hear,
Then I would not have known the freedom of death to be so clear,
But in rope and noose my love would not plead for my pieces,
For instead of tying it around my finger,
Love stranggled the delicate folds of my creases.