Shrinking Violet

It's all smoke and mirrors,
Cocooned in magenta mascara and lavender lace,
The ever-elusive ivory stag now backed into a corner,
Delighting in an artificial solitude's icy embrace,
Brandishing a jaw of pearls to sheathe the dagger up her sleeve,
A being without mortal anchors but free as the cosmos,
An orphaned star adopted by the destitute and bereaved,
Bound to the earth by a single poisonous dose,
Of a senseless rebellion rooted in a confrontational domestic convenience,
Concocted from the distorted allure of abandonment and the lust of love,
Ravenously craving the ecstasy of disobedience,
All to avoid her association with the palm branch toting dove,
Ordained by the heavens as a herald of peace,
Galvanized by the wind carrying her carelessly adrift as innocent as can be,
Yet somewhere along the way she lost her head in the clouds,
A life of complacency chafing away at her growing curiosity to the beings scuttling on the ground,
Gazing longingly at these minuscule being's feeble feet,
Appendages reluctantly dragging their comatose bodies through daily rituals too tedious to consciously repeat,
Why oh why young angel do you let your wings wilt with envy,
Why do your eyes brim with tears over remorse rather than from a strong gale's sting,
Remember your home atop cumulus hills and streets of cirrus,
Rise from your oaken bed not with medicated anguish,
But with the fire in your eyes coupled with a confident strut,
That made me fall in love with you,
My shrinking violet.