Rachel bleached her hair to Mark the end of something silver -
To counteract the epitaph
An eternal "I was here, and I didn't want to leave"
It all washed up on shore, dead The same summer most of us Gave up on God and gave into one another Or those saints found below the belt
Death is not the color black It's water growing gradually stagnant, yellow A slow crawl on all fours to the finish line or a sunset swallow The faded leather found sourrounding your veracious belt loop
And then there's Elizabeth Storming down the church aisle to call the whole order off She'd return to the dive bars in red lipstick And break hearts through notes written in checkbooks
Cosmic chaos comforts The living in regard to the dead We have faith in stardust and song lyrics A road map, phone number sent through the telescope at a camp sight
But caskets close and Bodies burn They scatter on hilltops and Scream out in stereo
Sleepless slumbers remain For Rachel and this is her Peroxide obituary For a mother gone too soon