Colette, Coleen and Victory

A dark and dusty winter eve,

A girl lounges behind the screen.
Pins in her hair, wide-eyed and keen,
She saw it all, raven-haired Coleen.

In a study, by the fire,

She leans in her seat, pulling a barrette,
fascinated by the warped mind of Colette,
like a soaring hawk, the maiden left her nest.

Under the ashen sky and sea,

“We are one and the same, my dear”
The sinful coos into the adolescent’s ear.
“Colette, perhaps it is your time to fear.”

Under the wrath of a stormy sky,

“Why fear or fret, precocious girl?”
Stubborn, insistent Colette purrs,
“Do you know what lies underneath these curls?”

Stepping into a building by the church,

“You needn’t tell me, I already know.
I see you are high but you are also low,
I reason well, Miss, I am glad it shows.”

Inside the building by the church,

“Don’t be foolish, you are but a child.
Pin up the hair, it flies far too wild.
All you know to do is to beguile.”

One step out of the building,

“Really Miss, is it I who deceives?
Am I here alone, this stormy eve?
Your lies run wilder than my hair, I believe.”

Two steps out of the building,

“Colette, Miss, let us talk of sin,
Perhaps I erred by letting an adulterer in,
You, I observe, have love-bitten skin.”

Three steps out of the building,

“What love do you know, you little waste?
When have you ever had any temptation to taste?
You know nothing, you are young and chaste.”

Four steps out of the building,

“I have loved more than you, more than you have seen”
Pressed on and on brave Coleen,
“Neither chaste nor young, Miss, but I am clean.”

Five steps out of the building,

“Do not dismiss me, Miss, or I further probe,
You have a fully functional frontal lobe,
It was not I who began to disrobe.”

Six steps out of the building,

“You can chide me, or critique my hair,
but know I have searched your soul and seen it bare,
I know your glory, I know your despair.”

Seven steps out of the building

“You cooed, Miss, that we are one and the same,
But you were the wild while I was the tame,
Our natures have switched, you take the blame.”

Eight steps out of the building,

“When I leave the gates, I’ll have outdone you,
The mourning and lamenting are yours to do.
I refuse to linger as your number two.”

Nine steps out of the building,

Coleen takes strides, but Colette feebly falls,
Trapped within her own intricate walls,
Clasping her ears at the girl’s victory calls.

It’s a fresh and breezy autumn morn,

A woman, tall, with a shattered screen.
Free-flowing hair, fierce-eyed and keen,
She knows it all, raven-haired Coleen.