She was Beautiful

Hands that feel as cold as porcelain,
flawless beauty.
Hair crackling like dry leaves,
perfect kisses that taste like cadavers,
rotting underground.
Teardrops fall like the ice and snow
that crash upon her grave.
She's beautiful.
Her heart stops beating,
her lungs not breathing
but the ache still lives on.
There's nothing as lovely
as the knife in her back,
reflective stainless steel.
The pain in her eyes,
remind her of the one she loved
before he killed her;
she was beautiful.