letter to jane

pray tell,
sweet jane doe,
have you always been this pale?

your hair is matte,
your lips are cracked,
and your fingers are icy cold.

raindrops land on your face
looking akin to ghostly tears.
your cheeks are stained red,
not unlike a bloodied mirror.

I'd hold an umbrella over your head
if my hands had not long been tied.
these snakes that you have bound me with,
they can swear I never lie.

you lay there, stiff as a board,
while the clouds pitter and patter on.
soon you'll be buried six feet deep
and no one will ever know you'd gone.

so I'll ask you once again,
head-turner, show-stopper, golden star,
how are you enjoying your mud bath thus far?