The road is dark, the wind is cold with frost,
I know just where I am, yet I am lost;
I cannot ask for help, although I try,
And so I look to you in the night sky;
Your light is there, so soft, and yet so strong,
My stars, whom I have loved for oh, so long;
And as I cry to you, my mother stars,
Blurred by my tears, stretch out your loving arms
And call to me 'Sweet child, you're not alone,
My child, look up, you'll never be alone'

Today bears the weight of erstwhile trepidation.
Uncertainties exhumed only to be hung up as ominous flags.
Black as night my widowed heart paraded through the procession.
Garbed in ash encrusted, sequinned frock, hemmed train all tattered in rags.

Herald the face with no features yet obscured behind a chiffon veil.
In hands, a bouquet of black roses, worm-eaten to the stems.
The mourning sun only gave the weakest glow,
feeble attempt to rejuvenate all that is stale;
to imbue the shimmer back into forsaken jewels and dulled gems.

Her entourage kept up with heavy feet; all grim and sullen.
Also faceless... Armed with pitchforks and torches.
Today they will draw much; having thirst for crimson.
Today they witness her death as the black parade marches.

If only I could love myself
as much as you did

I hope one day
My body
Is worth something
Because of more than the fact that
You loved it