polite grief

trigger warning! mention of suicide

i sprinkle sad prose and dead wished eyelashes and weave them into my own wreath

wisps of make believe caress my cold cheeks

the night is a sad play and i am the lead

dealt with grief all my life, now i’m searching for peace

the wonder of it all, the light, all lost

the days seem short, the nights years long

sunshine a vague concept, i draw lies on my scars

i love bathing in grey now, cracking open my ribs

expose this heart of mine to the moonlight

watch as the echoes of my sobs bounce off of the walls of my own solitude

porcelain face with a dewy pair of eyes

dressed in ragged and stained bridal white

all my ink wasted on beautiful, sad poetry

all my words, hollow whispers floating in a cold room

my presence felt not by touch, but pure memory

petals pulled off and paid with unintended tears onto my grave

i never knew it would go this way

my life had always been an empty, old house with no residents

no windows or glass vases

but now i see 21 pairs of shoulders outside the same old house

all dressed in black

to knock on my casket and pour regrets into my mouth

so i can drink it all and take it 6 ft under with me

bibs and ties come off after their hearty meal

i listen for any echo of a heartbreak but find none

guess all of you carry hearts that are already broken

all i am to do now

is sigh and feel gratitude

for the fake niceties and polite grief

as you drool onto eulogies about a girl you never really understood

and i still feel like the black sheep of the family

even after slitting my wrists