Lavaliere

It hangs on a silver chain,

Lying in the hollow of a throat.

Peacefully.

A silver cross with an engraved

Crescent moon.

And it bleeds,

Blood runs down metal and flesh alike.

And it cries,

Tears run down metal and flesh alike.

And it lives,

As it hangs on the neck

Of a young girl,

Who died a month ago

And still prays for heaven.