She walks into the picture
Obsidian skin brushing my eyelashes
And she sits.
Marble eyes rolling back into her head
And she falls into the pit of Death himself.
Death crunches at her dissolving bones
Can Death ruin her luminescense?
Beautiful black skin cracking under his gaze
Tears rolling into the soft grass under her tombstone.
But Death does not stop.
A child's screams and pains are sprinkles on top
Of the ice cream that bubbles out of her mouth.
And this child waits,
Waits for the day of a mother
To resurrect out of Death's game.