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Color-drained hair falls on her shoulders,
like the white foam that used to flow down the drain
when she used to take those long steamy showers
and my heart pumped my imaginative brain.

Hallow eyes dress her skeletal face
a pair of emeralds filled those empty shells
they made me feel naked and unease
now they hunt me among the hidden bookshelves.

Her decaying rose’s aroma lingers,
as she whispers into my ear and I shiver,
memories fly to me like shattering splinters
she remains unrelenting and much angrier.

Hidden with the others in my secret chamber
she lies there with her black veil, and a rose somber.