The Mannequin

By Anjana S

A solid black face,

With a frozen smile.

Curvy arms silhouetting,

the luscious breasts that

never once would sag.

Nipples that could poke a hole, and

a spine that sank in to hardened cheeks,

A figure befitting the Botticelli mould

- My sleek Black Mannequin.

A vendor by day, a lover by night,

Not once have I fondled

those nipples unabashedly.

Her nudity never at me

endless dispense.

Black were the irises that

feasted on her postured figure

"ON DISPLAY",

So was her plastic heart.

For not once, her slender fingers curled

around mine.

But there was another who loved me,

A love unreciprocated, but

Still persisted.

My lovely, human- Janine.

'Darling', she called me, with love.

Disgusted, I felt, with rage.

Robbing was she, precious amount

Of my time, time that was meant

To be mine and my love.

My true love

- My sleek, Black Mannequin

Her urgent, wet kisses ever dampening

My resolve to break free

A human adult notion (lust)

Damning the one true emotion I felt (love),

Towards my black beauty.

So, I built with lies, first

A bridge, and then a palace

And soon a whole world

Weaving around me and her

Keeping her out...

Saving forever the precious little moments with my- frozen, dead Princess.

But the lies grew fat,

The bridge collapsed

Only one could ‘be'

Only one foot could fit the glass slippers

And I chose the plastic foot

- My sleek Black Mannequin's

A plan was in place

A ruse, A trap

A magical manipulation

A candlelit dinner- a cloak

of romance to hide the dagger.

Scent of the candles to hide

the stench of death.

A swish of blade

Urgent, noiseless, painful

There formed a crimson ring around her neck.

The dead limp human fingers

Will never curl around mine, ever again

Just like

-My sleek Black Mannequin.

By Anjana S