Our Angel

“We found her bones under the stairs,”
He said to me.
They were fresh,
dripping with ichor
and smelling of sunshine.
That day,
my heart was ripped out of me
and buried with the bones.
Because without those bones
breathing
and smiling
and telling me sweet lies,
I don’t know how to live.
“It’ll be okay,”
He continued.
Not knowing that I was the one,
I was the one who had to tell them,
“Our Angel is gone.”
And I know that once I tell them,
amidst their tears they will **** me too.