Dead butterflies and daisies float on the surface of dark waters,
Weeping willows drape their braided leaves hovering and infusing in the
Black and indigo leaves falling from the strands,
Mingling with the floating, lifeless insects.
The leaves painted in strange colors because of disease and toxins within
the murky water.
Glaring into the deep pools,
Spiders creep beneath my hollow skin,
Webs filling my now concave bones.
I feel the dust as it blows in my capillaries in icy gusts,
Gore inside my veins.
No longer is my fresh blood within my body,
But it pusses out of my pores,
Falling from my eyes like tears,
Dripping from my lips like saliva.
I do not taste.
Emptiness has now chosen me to reside within,
As it ate at my carcass painfully,
Though I know I am not truly dead,
I was just dealt fate oppressively.
My flesh is frigid and grey,
Eyes dead and bleak, the color of the waters... empty black,
My tresses the color of lavender and cinders,
From my life that has slipped away,
But I have received resurrection,
For it took me so long to die,
Though when I did,
I immediately became what this thing is now.
So, here I hide in the dark place,
Where I did reawake,
Hiding from a malicious and overcrowded world,
In the muted blackness where I belong,
For it is dusk that fills me.
Lucidity has left in me the sinister,
Without even a candle,
Only the stars and moon,
That cast silver upon my the strange color of my flesh.
A moth lightly lands upon my hand,
And I look up from my horrid reflection that becomes interrupted by
The innocent moth tickling my flesh,
To be lost upon my body,
But my black garments would reveal the delicate creature...
Who reminds me that I am not alone,
There is the one,
He is so close to my species,
In this world,
There is only one of me.
He tells I whisper of a churchyard's essence,
That my pallid skin tells him of my sisterhood with the moon,
The blue in my lips screams of the blood that I yearn for,
But do not drink,
Instead sipping the poisonous waters that I forever gaze into...
I always wonder why he is here,
In a damned place...
It is meant for me,
The moth flies away,
As his figure approaches,
As in my frustration,
I begin to scratch at the flesh of my hand,
Tears beginning to mix with the blood on my face,
Wishing that my existence never came to be.
I yell at him,
I don't want anyone to see me,
Though before I can run and hide,
He speaks to me,
Trying to comfort me.
Covering my ears to his words,
I need him desperately to leave,
Wondering why he chooses to affect me so...
Always saving me,
Even though my mind is twisted by the vines,
Making me feel weak,
My violence tearing at this place,
When I tried to drown,
He stops it,
...Always there before my fall, my suicide...
Why? I breathe out in question,
Lifting my head, so we are eye to eye,
Though he stands,
Never touching me,
Just staring at me,
The look in his eyes shredding pieces of me,
I scream inwardly at myself,
I have let him look at me,
And now he gazes intently,
But it does not sting me...
And hate it...
I am empty...
Tears are coming,
Though I do not want them to consume me more than they already have,
As black rain falls.
As the darkness multiplies,
In the eternal night that devours this place.
My screaming echoes the bats that fly forever in the black-purple sky.
As my screams never stop,
Leaving nothing in echo of his existence behind,
That truth tells me that I have made my own lies,
And that I lied to myself,
That I truly am alone...
And the yearning for blood excruciatingly wells up within,
So that I tear at my wrists,
The blood flowing out as I drink it...
As the sky turns light,
I become cinders.