This night, walk the dead in a solitary style
And crash the cemetery gates
In the dress your husband hates
Way down, mark the grave
Where the search lights find us
Drinking by the mausoleum door
And they found you on the bathroom floor…
Can you hear that loud sound intruding your softest elegy, Annabelle?
Melody against harsh thunderous clanging of the old church bells?
Sonorous sound resonating, disconsolate and mournful to the bone
As they carry your pastel withered body away in your chiseled pink coffin stone
You knelt down to me now, crying in a shadowy church confessional
Annabelle, love, what sins and vices have you often lusted for now?
Whisper all of them to me clearly, for your divine transcendental
Heaven, hell, purgatory, which will your tainted soul venture to allow?
Annabelle, I have always thought you were the purest of white
Annie dear, synonymous to a blooming water lily, delicate and bright
But somehow that efflorescent plant has now wilted and drowned
Filling its decaying brown lungs with the cold water that surrounds
Annabelle, giggling excitedly with your group of friends at the bayside pier
Cotton candy by your lips, your celestial dress hiding your dessicated heart
Pleasant demeanour fading as you stood waiting, your fluttering ebony hair
Staring down into the murky waters, how badly did you wish to jump?
Annabelle, would you like to relay your last prayers in your wake, vis-à-vis?
Hands clasped together, in a pew, staring at your own funeral service
Fallen rose wreaths and fake red tears, can you handle the melancholy?
Sordid priests and frowning nuns, as I mumble my heartless bland eulogy
Carafes of bloody wines toasted, canticles in a morbidly-joyous anthem
Ostentatious display of sorrow, grotesque streamers on a mausoleum
You were a simple girl, Annabelle, but they wanted your lifeline celebrated
But confetti and balloons and the static noise is what you always have hated
Annabelle, there’s a budding flower flourishing inside your twisted womb
But you don’t wish for it to blossom so you chose the sanctity of the tomb
They would shame you, they’d disgrace you, throw you down the pit of deceit
You thought it better to have a fabulous death than a life of wretched defeat
A parade of endless black and grey, silk dripping and umbrellas raised up plain
As the dislimned anguished skies pulled a fresh sheath of sobbing rain
A grave dug fresh, a grey cracked tombstone, a short epitaph inscribed
“To the beautiful girl who still radiates hope and inspires even as she died”
A wandering soul with a grave mistake, my perfect, sweetest, bleeding Annabelle
Society has wept and grieved this day, for such a innocent lovely girl has fell
Annabelle, your teasing scarlet lips are forever stained in a permanent smile
Won’t you tell me one last secret to keep, or will you hide them all for eternity’s while?
I miss you, I miss you so far
And the collision of your kiss
That made it so hard
Way down, way down…