by J. Morah

Created on: May 22, 2009

The pure of heart are first to die

Best friend

love of her Life

Delights in breaking her heart

And she's learned a lesson:

All's gore

in love and war

Sometimes, dancing in the daisies

A whisper voiced her name

But the words she followed

floated away

like Everyone did

just the same

alone and alone and alone

Nothing's changed,

despite the promises kept

and the wishes granted

Nobody gives any ground

or lets go of how it was

or forgets the wasted fallout

She knows the status, the way it is

and how it must be

but that's not to say it's accepted as a fact

A truth, a word, one to change it all

alter the perceptions

halt the affections

hide imperfections

And oh, how she wishes she could know it

promises she would show it

The daisies nod their heads as the crackle sweeps

A damask red-orange at their feet

Burning to shreds what was once so sweet

And she wears her pretty white dress

Specked with soot and dirt and awareness

Claws at her charred hair

Decaying smile haunts her stare

Standing in the middle as she watches it die

And floats with the embers into the sky

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