Marbles of cold lace, little worlds of a mother’s frozen tears.
You rest on my face to stop my own.
All goes still, heartbeats slow, doors close, hands hold.
Cold pillows blanket all that once was.
Bright goes white, light goes dark.
There’s a density in darkness, a heat at every core.
Stillness never dies, it only rests until marbles melt and pillow pause piling.
A blanket canvas provides for all that will die.
For dusk and dawn are a blink apart.