Dust

I would sleep
for one thousand years
just to wake up
and find the dust
so much like snowflakes
gathered on my eyelashes.
In a coffin of dust
I would wake,
buried under the years gone by,
forgotten and alone.
I would walk down the aisle
my train of dust behind me
to meet my groom in his black hood,
and take his hands as I descend
into the darkness of a coffin
once again.
The dust; the only thing
that remembers me.