New York

He doesn't know any better, she read open the letters, it's all in her head now, it's so heavy on his heart, just the way it is to be apart, not the way it was in the start, he his people in the dark, she has a big black mark, on her forehead, his death was unkind, from the corridors of the mind, Satan the god of the stars, she holds them all in her crown, flown into the ground, all lovely and piece by piece, she made the mosaic, from bits and pieces of shards of crystals, long forgotten, on the floor, the water pours, there was a door, unlock it in a time long ago.