A Quadrille is a piece of formed poetry exactly 44 words in length. This one is written in response to a prompt on dVerse Poets Pub.
I tell people the love I had with you has spoiled me for all others. But the truth is the memories I cling to are but the fabrications of an aging woman who will never really know if you ever loved her at all.
When the lunacy that is drug addiction had removed every shred of decency from their young lives, they moved in with his mother to share the spartan bedroom of his youth.
When he fell prey once again to his mistress heroin and succumbed to an overdose less than a month before their first anniversary, she made a pallet of his unwashed clothing and an old pillow from his childhood closet, and slept there swaddled in memories of him long after his scent had dissipated.
It was there when she first heard the dulcet tones of an old familiar, never to be forgotten voice. It enticed her with the prospect of gathering her up in Its warm undulating caress. It promised to separate her from the devastating loneliness she ached with her every waking moment, by replacing it with a soothing chasm of nothingness that would insulate her from anything or anyone that could do her harm.
When that failed- like a banshee It screamed at her that she was a weak, useless, unlovable junkie left all alone in a world that had long ago cast her aside.
When they found her, It was sitting cross legged on the bed- laughing.
“Dust, torchlight, soldiers, crowds of people whose faces are invisible in..”
A vibration, other-worldly in tone, accompanied Tsuki’s life force as it exited her earthly vessel, thus assuring no one would ever know the extent of the depravity she had suffered during the time she had been held captive in Kowloon Walled City.
Transformed by death, even exorcised of her tortured soul, the ravaged woman-child looked nothing like the boarding school photograph her parents had supplied the authorities with when they reported her missing a few short months ago.