My Beautiful Dead Girl

Haunted eyes
wrapped in misery.
You are already dead,
so why should you feel pain?

Pain is your purgatory
little girl, a grand gift
from scales that can never
be balanced in your favor.

Haunted eyes they may be,
but I see defiance, strength,
lingering deep, always
ready to rise to the surface.

Never did death look so beautiful
A perfection in form chiseled
from stone beaten up and torn
down by the elements.

You wear your cloak well,
dark and tear stained, wrapped
tight around a body that
still flies free.

You are my beautiful dead girl.
with cold hands clenching tight around
a warm heart
that beats just for you.