Hands cross above her head, wrists tied by string, her legs leaning awkwardly behind. Her stance is that of a majestic kraehe, smudged pointes holding her weight. She has nothing to her name except for a carved word on her neck covered by tangled hair. Her eyes long for the knowing of those words, but they seem to be too good at hide-and-seek. Dust builds in her pockets, as well as the glass jar preserving her stationed figure. Her porcelain eyes see clouds of ash as sun’s rays set into the room through smudged glass. They see old antiques crowd cobweb corners, untouched by wrinkled hands. Uncared for, for what would seem like a millennium.

Her eyes of which used to glow a vivid, living, lavender, are now drained of color, black hair hiding her dead irises. Starless strands of hair twist around curling feet. Pansy purple lips painted into a kind smile just under her curled nose, the lips a lie to her abandonment. If she could move them they would form syllables that long for the answer to why she just builds dust.

The winding charm on her back hadn’t always been rusted wings. When warm hands still enjoyed her entertainment, the wind would make her dance. Somehow the thought of her ribbon pointes and frilled tutu causing a childish laughter to fill the space made her joyous. But after being unused for so long, her swan beauty slowly turned into an ugly raven.

Her feet no longer passionately sway. They only stand on aging paper, heart-felt words folded in an envelope. The inked words are trapped inside, their flavor having never been tasted. They still wait for hands to tear the paper and finally reveal what they have wanted to scream for so long; Yet, if they are read they will never be fully satisfied since her web of tangling hair hides the cursive signed on the front, that sweet name belonging to a soul six feet under with eyes that will never read the confession.

Now pitter patter prints track dust around the glass case; Wrinkled paper in leather bindings lean on molding wood; Spiders feast in cobweb corners; A decomposing body has hands that cross above its head, holding rope, its feet leaning awkwardly behind it.