If I died tonight
Would my skeleton hang from your ceiling?
Would my bones sit on a shelf collecting dusk like your grandma's figurines?
Would my skin be draped across your shoulders like designer?
Would my teeth chatter you to sleep each night, a pearly white noise machine?
Would my voice be your door mat, to be walked over every time you need someone to clean the blood off your feet?
Would you give me a funeral with a pretty eulogy led by a stranger preaching here lies a dead girl?
Would you be honest to the crowd?
Would you tell them why you killed me?
-a ghost of who I was
