She awoke draped in transparency.
The cemetery was wandering across her mind like a nightmare in a shadow box.
The alabaster moon flooded the curves of her chest with satin heaviness.
A heaviness with talons of raven black silence.
She sat upright,
tumbling locks of woven ink
caressing shoulder blades.
Her mouth ached with reminiscence
as her tongue kissed the rose water
from her beating heart.
Her throat, a mute swan,
as her feet swung onto stained floorboards.
She counted her steps from door to staircase,
closed her eyes,
fingertips caressing the wooden banister as her lungs forced her to inhale too sharply.
As if she felt a ghost entering her very form;
must she take this demented dreamstate walk every night until she dies.
Hands on wallpaper edges, rusty nails piercing her veins,
a house that swallows too many sins.
Burning memories of his limbs twisting through hers as smoke filled her lifeless lungs.
Suffocate, let your throat choke and take solace in the memory of a girl who was once alive.
Soft memories of ashen bones hidden inside a coal flurry next to a barren fire.
His ghost, wailing, as he watches
death cradle her in a white dress,
as the black birds break into song.