Back from a wedding.
On to a funeral.
The jagged gravel stuck to the bottom of your shoes whisper a story of regretful yesterdays and hopeless tomorrows.
I crept so delicately into your dreams and shadowed quite intricately into your nightmares.
I am your forgotten secret.
I am your woeful heartbreak.
The scarf you knitted of wool and dandelion stems to keep a winter's mystery at bay has burned.
And the silver ashes, like pure white innocence, remain sprinkled across my coquette eyes and lashes.
I have kissed a dozen hearts.
But only tasted your moist lilac breath as you whispered across my neck, "Love, I would kill for you."
With Hell's wrath in your gemstone eyes, I can finally see my worth.