their heaven is not like mine-
not in the least.
their heaven is perfect and peaceful;
it has the ones that they loved.
mine just has me.
and the meadow in the woods.
and the dim rays of sun,
that do nothing to control the seeping chill.
and the black curls of ivy-
still somehow growing.
and the small white puffs that i believe,
are the lost remnents of flowers.
i still wear the torn black dress,
the fragments of cloth cloak my pale skin in the shimmering dusk that shall last forever.
all of my sorrowful memories mount around me-
for all eternity they shall remain.
their heaven is a happy place,
one filled with laughter and joy.
their heaven is where they want to be.
how very unlike me.
for i long to be with them,
though i never shall.
oh, no; i shall never be with them...
