Come closer to me, my love,
And sing songs of sweetness
And innocence. Tell me
Your thoughts of love and laughter
And how the two are the same.
Will you finally show me what it means
To be alive?
Can you convince me otherwise?
I am torn between my desire for you
And being a mistress of Death.
The bliss I feel has gathered
And fallen at my feet; black
Colored rose petals eaten with
The best intentions. You can not
Fault me in my final life.
I never said I wanted another.
The indigo colored stains on my face
Were a gift in exchange for losing
A little bit of what makes me smile.
My love, give me what I desperately need
To add to my tea cup already spilling over
With storm clouds and inner frustrations.
Death cannot claim to love me better
While you are not as alive as I had thought before.
I am sorry you felt doubt from me;
It should have been regret.
(Snowden Angel - Elmwood Cemetery: photography by Kimberly B. Richardson)