Elegys are the lies
we tell dead people,
When we know
they won't hear us
From up above,
Or from down below,
Or just in the ground,
in the dirt.
Wherever you want to believe,
Just believe they can't hear you.
When you say that
He or she was this or that
Now and then
When you were nine or ten,
When they came back from
The shop with a sugar laced treat
That was never quite as sweet
As them.

Lies,
all of it.

-Jamie F. Nugent