Absinthe Tears

Absinthe Tears,

Envy, the youngest of three, is jealous of the beauty and grace of Vanity.

The loud boastful confidence of Pride – she could never compare.

With thoughts as brittle and twisted as her hair.

Mourning her losses with silent cries,

As absinthe tears fall from emerald eyes

They sting the dry corners of her lips,

As Ivy climbs her legs to the jagged edges of her hips.

Daughter of Greed and Gluttony,

She carries their copper cross. Starved for eternity.

No room for self-pity in a heart as fragile as a china cup.

Although chipped and fractured - It’s all but filled up.

With long bony fingers and weak-looking wrists,

She will grasp at your coattails and covet your gifts.

Her consort is Fear, but she for another,

She wants to feel Lust, Wrath’s older brother.

She offers a thin spearmint smile and arched feline back,

But piercing green lights shine out from a deathly black.