Celeste

My dearest Celeste
Her body is lying limp
Her breath is falling frosty
The slight warmth rising into smoke
The snow falls softly like a blanket
The white flakes sticking to her long lashes
Her full lips are now blue from the winter cold
Her dark brown hair spread like a halo around her head
The dagger with which she took her life dropped by her side
Her wrists are so bloody yet her death has been beautiful
Her soul is retreating to an afterlife
The oasis she expects is not waiting
With her final breath she utters the word
 “please”
Her heart slows to a stop
just as her icy blue eyes hide behind their veils
She is dead
There is no shimmering gate
No singing angels to calm her frantic soul
All that is left is her cold frosted corpse
And the stained pink snow