The Wake

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
My life

Submitted: April 01, 2015

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Submitted: April 01, 2015

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• The Wake •

 
The wooden mouth of this gold hinged oversized flower bed showcasing what was once chaos disguised as life • I run my fingers over the creases around his mouth where all the smiles have left a history of impressions • His hands are cold and stiff but you could still hear their stories being told of whiskey, midnight tunes and rhythm • One single red rose lay upon his folded hands where his folded hands rest upon his chest • This rose giver would lay her head on his chest to find safety from the dead and stiff things of this cold world • I remember that day so clearly, not a cloud in the sky , the stars seem to hang on God's shower curtain hooks and flicker in code as satellites passed them by • it was the day I killed him and let the dust of the earth tell of his stories and the winds speak of his past • He was a good man but he wanted this , he wanted to be reborn as somebody else that would forever be burned into the minds of civilizations collective thought • for all we do really have in the end is our mind • without that all is useless and our souls would have no reason to inhabit this earth suit any longer • sometimes I bathe in deep murky thought to find the divine purpose in my decision • but all I see is my reflection in the water and the Monster pulling me deeper •  I guess that's what it would look like if I was drowning in it • but before the wooden mouth shut and swallowed who he was and sometimes how'd I'd like to remember him to be • I paid my last respects and noticed everyone had already left • I smiled until the creases in my face seemed to balance my cheeks like Greek gods on marble pedestals • it only seemed proper for our sake that I would be late to my own wake • 


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