On this dim paper she does bravely write
in purple and magenta ink with pen,
a slim note to bid adieu, and end her plight.
She grasps not where they will find her in the end.
Her tool of choice she still reasons to muse,
yet selects her last dress with careful glee.
Looks of pity are those she’d never choose.
Do not feign grief, she suffers the sinner’s fee
These words she carves are brief and plain
memories of misery and hopeless despair.
She requests that in satin she be lain
with apologies that she left no time to prepare.
Soon, she will sit on her soft cloud of blue trust.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

08/18/2013