Lady Macbeth

If it were only a quirk that she could ignore
As she goes through the evenness of her day.

Daylong, her eyes twitch in rapid succession
In a way that they need to in spite of herself.
And when she is wearied in the loneliness of her shame,
She comes to me, eyes averted from my gaze.

And if it were only a matter of creases in her sheets,
She would laugh it away with a wink of an eye.