On one palm, she touched a sun. On the other, she weakened a moon.
Out of this nature, an alien, far from the life equation, death met his woman, a zombified witch. He settled for love, collecting the bones from the open graves, and selling charms for the immoral souls, and false promises for the broken-hearted.
She wandered alone, stripped, unmarked, like a reflection, like a meditation.
She smirked when a wicked thought caught her attention.
Death was her intimate lover. Together, they overcame life.

Artwork unknown.