Caskets

Darkened eyes seem 
to hold grisly tales
that most can’t wait 
to unearth. 

You cannot save her,
not after that last 
breath tore through 
her lungs.

A time so long ago
it no longer exists. 

In death I’ve found 
that nothing really 
needs reality.

It only needs 
some light shed
on the bones. 

Those bleach 
white travesties 
hidden in the
closet.  

You may keep
the casket. 
You may keep
the crown. 

I don’t need it
anymore. 

– B. 

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