And when I die,
surely from sin and dirt and living-
Do not bury me in white.
Do not brush my hair and paint my nails.
Do not shine my heels and iron my dress.
Do not speak of me so bittersweetly.
Bury me in lingerie with frayed lace.
Muss my hair and smear my lipstick.
Scuff my boots and rip my tights.
Speak of me with thinly-veiled vehemence.
Do not love me,
when I am dead.
For none did during life,
other than in the glow of a t.v.
that only played to hide the moans.
Do not bury an imposter
and spin tales of a sweet virgin
who died too soon.
Bury a whore
and rage that you were not the one
to finally silence her.