• Her eyes held nothing but slight sadness,
    in the deepest part of her soul.
    Her face was as cold and smooth as ice,
    the only warmth is a small, hot tear running slowly down her cheek.

    This tear did not defrost her face,
    it did not melt the cold.
    The lone tear was that small sadness in her soul,
    crying out for the love her parents stole from her.

    They took him from her swiftly and uncaring,
    no kindness towards her feelings.
    They screamed at her when she cried,
    driving her further from them.

    She wrote a letter that night,
    explaining her last moments.
    She held it tightly against her as she lifted the gun to her temple,
    a hard squeeze of the trigger and she was gone.

    She fell limply down onto the bed,
    hot blood now running down her cheek.
    It followed the track her lone tear had made,
    taking away the coldness from her face.

    Her parents found her smiling in her lifeless slumber,
    confusion grasped them.
    She should not be smiling,
    but she knew she would see her love again.

    When his time is right.