She stood.
Her hair, dark and wispy,
soft and strangling like it always was,
wafts gently in the wind.

Her whole body is moving with the wind,
actually,
and her white gown is bleeding black.
Her neck is barely visible
because through the undergrowth of
all
that
hair,
her pale trunk of a nape is buried alive.
She will be buried alive too.
She may not have died.
Maybe she just needed some rest,

And everything is going to be okay.

She stands.
Her skin, black and white,
colorless and dead unlike her surroundings,
glows in the light of the curtain-flanked windows.

I hate it here.
I hate it here.
I hate it here.

“Are you still there?
I miss you.”

I miss you too.

“Please come back.
I miss you.”

I will never stop missing you.

“You’re lost, but just have faith.
I miss you.”

I don’t have a compass and I am out at sea.
I miss you too.
I will drown before I see you again, though;
I will drown in my own high
and my own hazy dreams
before I’ll never say Good Morning to you again.

I have something to tell you.

Waiting for something to happen?

I have been caught red handed
and she is dead already.
I have cried and I have wept
but I have never told the truth.
I have something to tell you.
You will be upset,
much like I was.
I am guilty. Terribly so.
But her death hurt me too.
I have something to tell you.

Waiting for
something
to happen?

The wilted flowers crunch under my black socks.
My skin is a blank white. The ground is a vibrant green.
My hands are smaller than I remember. I feel more dead than I have grown.
And at my feet is the punisher: also the favorite,
who has black fur and beady white eyes.

Her Honor looks up at me.

Waiting for something to happen?

My left eye is bandaged
and you are asleep.
Your mint hair is a straw yellow now,
it is past golden hour so the sun is pale
the clouds drift past the windows
and it is a long way down…

Waiting for something to happen?
What are you waiting for?

She stood.
At peace.

…I am waiting for judgement.