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Sitting in the parlor all alone..

Wishing for just one more day.

To just be able to talk to her and ask her the things a little sister would ask..

Not yet ready to say good-bye..

She was always there for me..  

Wondering now how will I travel the roads ahead..

Sitting in the parlor feeling guilty that I did not call her that night before she died..

How was I to know he would come home in yet another rage..   She was going to help me get out..

And now she is gone..

I sit and look at all the people trying to make sense out of this.

Feeling as if black roses are now over my heart..

Will They ever go away..

Because when she died a piece of me did too..

The part that felt safe..

The part that felt loved no matter what..

The part that felt like she was not only a sister..

She was a second momma..

And now she is gone.

So I set in the parlor feeling the black roses on my heart..

Feeling so very lost and alone..

Feeling traped..

Fearing this will be the end..

The end with the black roses in my heart..