Cold dead fingers wrap around her heart,

pulling her down, back down into death.

Pale as dawn, cold as ice,

swathed in black velvet,

blood red roses clasped in her hands.

A wistful smile lingers upon her lips,

her once bright eyes now closed forever,

soft eyelashes, that once held tears, now dry.

Sealed within her tomb,

safe from the pain which haunted her life.

Yet she dances still, on moonlit nights,

upon rain-soaked grass, around fading tombstones.

Still she sighs and whispers to the stars.

She watches those she loved with a lingering sadness,

and weeps to see the pain that they've gone through.

She sits beside her tombstone now and waits,

still clothed in black velvet,

roses still clasped in her hands,

patiently waiting...

...for him to join her.