I'll walk down the aisle to your casket. Through the pews, until I finally meet you. I'm in a white wedding dress and I see your decaying remains that build up to be a handsome corpse. I examine you. Festering. Putrefying. The sight of you could make anyone else sick, but these stolen glances that I get of you make me feel at home. I'll take any chance I can have at staring at your face without feeling like I'm not allowed because I cannot call you mine any longer. If you were still on your deathbed, begging for life, I'd give you both of my lungs if you asked. I lean down to give your rotting face a kiss on the cheek. The pallbearers close the casket lid and lift you up. I watch their every move, making sure they keep your body safe. They carry you down the aisle, I follow them from behind. I find myself outside, staring at the sky wondering why it took you so soon. I'm there in a white wedding dress, watching the seven men load you up into a hearse, that should've been a 1929 Ford Model A with "Just Married!" written on the back. You should've been in a different suit. Not that one. I should've been holding a bouquet of white flowers, but instead I was holding one black rose. I walk down the church steps without your hand in mine. Without my mother standing next to me holding back every tear that she possibly can. I walk to the hearse that holds your mortal remains. I get in the drivers seat and no one notices. I step on the gas of the hearse that reads on the back "Just Buried!".
amandla
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
germansingergirl
