She was dressed in black,
a raven of painted feathers and death tones.
Her body was laced in black and roses,
like a corpse,
dancing in the bone-yard
upon the sacred mounds of skull and tears.
She was kissed in black,
A midnight phantom on the wings of the moon,
Doom and Sadness in her eyes
Like feathers of the crow falling
from the sky
This blog content is Copyright © 2013 of Nightshade author of The Purple Broom