She fell to Heaven.
I rose to Hell.
I vomited tears.
I stood before the gates.
No one answered.
Imprisoned in grief,
I searched for clues.
I took refuge in butterflies.
White noise was but sound.
Messages to God were
intercepted by voice mail.
Wishes provided no rides.
Her presence was at night.
A search beneath the lights
found nothing.
She never answered the letters
written.
She still rests buried in Heaven.