We care for her, brushing her tangled locks, soothing her calloused feet.
And yet, an empty gaze never falters, never flinches.
She remains a stone that never cracks.
To see our deeds firsthand is to peer into a void none could bear to imagine.

We moisten her lips with raindrops. We flex her bones with thunder.
A palm to her chest reveals a faint heartbeat. But what can we do?

There are things a soul cannot unsee.
Things forever etched across the mind's lucid eye.
The cries of ghosts and the laughter of someone else,
As there will always be another.
Another to smile when we frown. Another to rejoice when we fall.
A balance is maintained, and we all struggle for release.
If only her eyes could see that.

She swallows once, quenching her throat with dew from a leaf.
At last, a tear forms as she accepts Fate's design.
The chair fades away, and the canopy is pulled taut.
... Those pinholes twinkle unusual.
We each take a hand, and her eyes gleam with life.

"Follow us, sister. These stars shine for you."

So celebrate with bread and wine,
With meat and lager,
With laughter and song,
And the slippery kiss of that woman,
Eyeing you from over there.

Outside your door ... another awaits.
One who has always been near,
Persuading you with stars.
Promising nothing, yet granting everything.

It is inconceivable,
So I won't even bother.

But with each passing day,
You step closer to that revelation,
Whether by choice or by fate.
And when the door opens for you,
You may find yourself holding a cold hand.
Her skin is stone, unforgiving, and rigid.
Her silent steps follow close behind.

Your shadow. Your mistress.

*Regret