there is always a price to pay for everything
i paid for my happiness with tears.

she looks down at the face not unlike her own
lying silent in the cushioned black rectangular box
half covered in satin sheets
a black rose in her hands
the colour was all gone from her face
the blood from her crinsom lips
there was no denying the face and look of death
i move my hands to close the lid
a ray of sunlight catches a piece of silver
the butterfly around her necks glitters one last time.
it shuts with an omminous thud
shrouding the contents in darkness.

gingerly the case is lowered into the ground
overhead it is raining
a light drizzle as raindrops fall lightly
their short lives coming to an end the moment they hit the ground
and she mules over the irony of their existence -
wondering if they ever get tired of the endless cycle
of changing states
of rising then falling again
always falling.
they continue to heap the soft earth to fill the gaping hole
each spadeful falling with a barely audible thud
they hurry. the man with burly shoulders working frantically to keep the rain from wetting and spoiling the soil
grunting and panting from the exhaustion
so little time so much to do.

she kneels down infront of the fresh mound
a red rose in her hands
tears fall openly and freely
saying goodbye is never easy,
especially to a part of yourself
but she had no choice
it had to be done