A pearl upon a black velvet sheet;
a skull upon the dark ground.
sit, stoic, upon your dark throne.
The curtains part, your attendants
flickering like candelight
Your pale face is expressionless.
From your lofty perch you frown
down at me. Why are you so bitter?
Your face darkens, your eyes turn
murky. You hide behind your dark
Are you in mourning?
Who is it you have lost?
Your reason for being -
lost many moons ago.
You are all that remains.
An old bitter white shell,
an old white stone.
Tears begin to fall down
your pale, powedered cheeks.
You cower behind
your grey curtains.
© Copyright 2016 Topher Sparrow. All rights reserved.