#womaninblack
A woman draped in a black hooded dress
Softly and slowly the coffin she caress
She is here for the death
She is quiet bereft
The tears slide down her flawless face
Cheeks a pink rose tint, lips blood red hue, there's no disgrace
Her hair is raven colored, she is nothing, if not grace
Her healing hands over her face she places
Her gut wrenching anguished moans can be heard for miles
She falls to her knees in the aisles
Behind her closed eyes she sees every moment of this life
The microseconds of happiness the years of anguish and strife
She cries and wails for a life lived this way
She moans and sways
For in that coffin is where her life lays
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
The kind of love that sounds like a beautifully broken vase,
Shattered shards of dreams and glass.
Love that haunts the soul—
Beautifully,
Like the moonlight tangled in the magic sky.
Love that mounts fast,
As if the flocks of bats were covering the roof.
Love so haunted,
It makes you scream—
As if you've just had a dream
Too solemn to forget,
Too dark to name.
Love as ominous as a smile without eyes.
Love as pure as silk on a coffin.
Love so sad,
Like a woman in black…
Still,
Love for desire—
Like desire for love.
Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 1:20 AM UTC