Behind Closed Doors

simply corpses

They ask me what happened,
but Its too hard to speak,
You always called me your strong little girl, but daddy I've never felt more weak.

__________________________

30 march 2017
2:42 pm

My maroon sneakers sneered into the dirt, tapping ever so softly, as if they themselves were afraid of sinking into the graveyard's  dusty soil.

The same soil where thousands laid lifeless,

Each one trapped under a shield of mud which hid their lies and secrets,

unwillingly getting suffocated by those who nonchalantly drop by to weep every now and then.

I wonder if that helped to lessen their remorse.

Remorse of things they couldn't do.

Remorse of things they never said.

I ponder if they felt as if a burden was lifted off their shoulders each time they sat beside a loved one's grave.

Ranting about how badly they missed the corpse that laid six feet under,

probably decayed

now barely there

It was somewhat funny to me, how people would visit a bag of bones to talk about how awful their day was,

or how something in their pathetic lives went wrong, instead of talking to those still breathing.

I thought of it as delusional,

Yet, little did I know; that when you crave someone so desperately, it makes no difference whether they're breathing or they're six feet under.

I wonder if they feel some sort of a spark,

whether the soil shifts and their bones tremble beneath.

Maybe they even push upon the soil crushing them or plead to let the one outside know that they can hear, but the weight of the mud restricts them.

Some sit for hours on end, speaking about the most random of things, as if talking to a real person and not just a bag of bones.

Even the thought of forgetting about my parents or Lucas sent shivers up my spine, making my stomach twist in anger.

Anger at myself, for even letting such a thought cross my mind

and anger at universe for putting me in a position where I stood across freshly dug graves of those I once held so close,

wondering whether they'd be remembered or not.

The thought made me want to bury myself along with the three other white clothed corpses, in hope of everlasting unity.

Corpses.

That's all they were now.

That's all they were to the people of this town.

But what were they to me?

Simply corpses?

Several people had gathered, most of which I had never seen before, all dressed in white but their hearts were black.

Dark and shallow

Each one is selfish for their own well-being.

Their tears screamed suffering but their eyes only showed frustration.