So beautiful laying so still, frail coverlets falling soft upon your naked body, brittle dried leaves your long desired grave do make.
Moons shy silver light conceals its feelings behind the disbelief of a stark loan tree wishing not to know of your dying.
Such delicacy of eye make-up that was once designed with profound skills of artistry now only pales beneath the shadowy blue of nights stillness.
Long black hair brushed so fine motionless as your leafy grave still as nights darkness.
Embraced content in the arms of death your true lover now holds you eternally.