i stand apart from the crowd
in a short black gown
black wings as soft as goose down
purple roses in my hand
though i wish it was a magic wand
so i could stop them from lowering my coffin into the ground
so i could go back into myself, and turn the clock around

i walk towards the coffin
it’s not yet covered
they have not lowered
my body in
to the ground
the pastor looks around
and asks does anyone want to see
her one last time before we
close the lid?
the crowd gathered there did
nothing but stand with poker faces
and some looked as if they had places
to be
some were whispering, oh how young was she
just twelve
and a half, i hear, but i wish not to delve
into that story.

i found myself standing at the edge
of my coffin, gazing down
just like when i had stood on the ledge
wanting to fall down…
they had dressed me in white
and i looked like a tree sprite
innocent and peaceful
with a handful
of water lilies.

they had washed away
the bloodstains from my underwear
and today,
my mother had combed my hair
the way i used to like it,
covering my forehead and the **** in it
from where my head hit the pavement
when my body collided with it.

the men covered my coffin
and lowered me into my grave
heaping shovel after shovel of dirt
on the mahogany wood
then planted my gravestone

by this time
the crowd had gone
leaving me to cry
and mourn
the men left
and i felt i would go deaf
from the booming silence…
collapsing onto the surface of my grave
i cried black tears as i placed
my purple roses, one by one
onto the ground in front of my headstone
i thought about the me
that used to be
and used to see
the beauty
in everything…
i mourned the me
that smiled without pain
that played silly games in the rain
that had a crush on that guy
that hated the word goodbye

as i folded my dark wings around myself,
i mourned the death of my former self…