Sprinkles

She walks into the picture

Obsidian skin brushing my eyelashes

And she sits.

Marble eyes rolling back into her head

And she falls into the pit of Death himself.

Death crunches at her dissolving bones

Can Death ruin her luminescense? 

Beautiful black skin cracking under his gaze

Tears rolling into the soft grass under her tombstone.

But Death does not stop.

A child's screams and pains are sprinkles on top 

Of the ice cream that bubbles out of her mouth.

And this child waits,

Waits for the day of a mother 

To resurrect out of Death's game.