life drained from me, and yet even in death, not truly dying.
My murders caring hands ensuring that my beauty remains forever, though dried and dead I feel.
I still carry the memory of the scents of Summers lost.
An eternity trapped in a dark and shadowed prison
Dead Flower
I remember raising my face to the warmth and brightness of golden sunlight, of being surrounded by my family, surrounded by meadows and trees, the gentle caress of Spring rains.
And then, hands clutching, a knife cutting, and I was carried into darkness.
Hung as my