Sunshine

The sunrise crept in like an unwanted gesture upon her bosom. Vicariously she pondered; hesitant yet fulfilled. Destiny was painstakingly present in the advent of what was to be. "Alone", she cried.
"I am alone."
The gentle wind howled unforgivingly as it caressed her once unflappable lips. The element of clarity once present was no longer. Time was a frivolous theory that ceased to exist as she eloquently raised the blade to her throat. There, in the garden of good, she slept upon a withered rose.