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I think the dead always get
The last laugh

I worried so much
Over so many things
When it was always
Going to work
Itself out

In the end
Lia Oct 2019
Skin, soft and fragile as marigold petals
Bones thin as papier-mâché
Holding the shape of a person I love
Holding together our bodies of clay

Candles, dimming light behind the eyes
Weary wind slipping through parched lips
Sweet and weak the voice of a person I love
Spirit readying voyage on vanishing ships
All people are like grass, And all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.
Madelynn Nieves Sep 2018
‪She danced on graves‬
‪In dark reverence‬
‪Throwing a party for the dead‬.
Reveling in the beauty,
Of each delicate sculpture,
‪Her fingers traced the edges...‬
‪Memories long gone,‬
‪but in the souls
Of those who loved them.‬
‪Twisted smile‬,
‪Longing for the day‬,
‪When she too‬,
‪Rests eternally‬.
Ellis Reyes Nov 2015
Tradition says he’ll come today
With the wind,
In a ray of sunshine
On the arrival of a friendly bird

Was that creak his footfall in the hallway?
Was that warm breeze his breath upon my neck?
Is that his familiar scent or just my deep desire to have him here with me?

We’ll set out candles
Prepare his favorite foods
Bathe our home with love and light
Because today the children,
My child,
Returns from the grave
For Jack. Who left us far too soon.

— The End —