The Dead Wishes

When you were here,
you wanted
your coffin
to be
cherry oak,
the flowers
to be
pastel pansies,
a marble headstone
above your forehead,
and for your grave
to be
underneath a weeping willow.
"I want the tree to weep for me,
Not my loved ones."
you had said once,
as if it mattered
after you were gone.

Yet, not a single twitch
of your stiff lip
is given as I
dress you up
in the dainty lace dress
I knew you always loved,
paint your nails
that stupid mint green color
you knew I always hated,
and shine that locket
you wore
anytime we went out.

Not a cry,

Not a giggle,

Not a sound.

But then I remember:
the dead don't care
about life
anymore.

Reviews

[cassandra ziemba]

the feel of this poem is very sad and eerie. its a good kind of poem and i enjoyed reading it. the feeling of loss and grief pores from this writing. keep it up.