you wears your suit as boys of eighteen often do-
scratching and pulling at the confines of your tie
and wondering why
you're dressing up for the deadand the girl across the room simmers
as she curls her fist into a tight ball
and slowly unfurls it
"you did this," she whispers in your ear
pointing to the cheap casket
that contains your targetshe's vindictive and fiery
because she's seen her friend fall,
her sister gone.and so right there
in the room of somber black,
she attacks, seizing the moment
for herself and the fallen.because today is the day
that she stops the world
stops the broken record playing
the phrases of a girls' life
and becomes more
than a bejeweled,
exotic turntableA/N: So for this, I was really inspired by death, obviously, and how it can reveal things about people that we otherwise might never have known.
YOU ARE READING
Clean: An Anthology
Poetry{#73 in Poetry- May 17, 2016} A series of poems and essays about the things I wish I could say out loud. @soundthealarm made the gorgeous cover.