Come to Me, My Love

She moves alone in the dark of the night
The full moon casts its radiant glow
Her white gown flows in the gentle breeze,
Not a single footprint mars the glistening snow

Red tears seeping from absent eyes
From pitch black socket holes
Two small black spiders creeping from between pale gray lips
Ivory colored skin winter cold

An extended hand held out blindly before her
As she weaves swiftly, as gracefully as a ghost
Through this dark yet moonlit forest of deadened trees
She seems to almost float, the dark bruises aligning
About her thin throat

Like a decaying angel,
Beautiful in her terrifying grace
A gleefully broken opened smile
Forever frozen in place, on her face

And she sings to the wind
Without moving her lips,
"Come to me, my love, come to me"

And the air is still now
As a figure comes forward beyond the shadows
Draped in a black tuxedo
A blur, an image, a man, from the gallows

The rope of death still clinging from his neck
His hand extended as well as if reaching out for her
They move swiftly forward by through the fog
Floating to one another

He whispers to the wind
Without moving his parched lips,
"Come to me, my love, come to me"

And as their hands come together
Like a touch of a feather
Her smile softens and encloses
Cold lips connect in a sweet deathly kiss

And the kiss may part
But even in demise this dark
Their hearts will never
Die apart