A smoothe cream,
dripping chills of fog off her brow...

Within your mind burns a simple flame,
Bright and cautious...

A soft light, through clouds grown weary,
a sweet comfort, relaxing you...

Flames burn, in these sunken skull eyes,
and fireflies dance in their hollowed caves...

Mema was my grandmother, and I don't have any...
This is for her...

Crying out from my heart, striking the air with...
vibrant colors in deep shades of repent...

Purple and pink watercolors,
seem to bleed through the sky...

Lonely tears of devestation,
only comfort those of imagination...

Trace for fingerprints,
of a memory long forgotten...

I go up,
into that sky...

Screams, pain,
death's bell tolls...

Night falls through satin curtains,
and a blanket of stars stroke the sky...