Her skin was midnight, forbidden yet enticing,
Freckles dotted her face like stars amongst the night sky.
To enter her orbit was to choose suffocation,
There was no air when she approached,
Just a vacuum, pulling you into her embrace.
Her hair was strands of pure sunlight,
Radiating from about her nebulous head,
Like a cosmic lighthouse calling lost astronauts to their doom.
Cold does not describe the chill of her touch,
For her skin was unemotional,
Unable to be warmed by even the most tender heart.
She drifted between the planets, lost and unafraid,
Where time could not touch her,
And man could not reach her.
Music drifted softly from her lips,
Each note a galaxy,
Teeming with life and purpose,
Spiraling off into the far reaches,
Destined to leave her like every son does leave their mother.
She called back to them,
Sending comets streaking cross their skies,
Messages unread but marveled at by man and creature alike.
When the Old Ones stir in their stygian slumbers,
They too look for her amongst the sky,
Eons have not withered their lust for her company,
But have dulled their sight.
She is gone to them,
Become one with that which she embodied,
Space in its eternal beauty,
Vast,
Untouchable.
Still, she endures,
Waiting, watching, wanting,
A single child may yet hear her words,
And return home.