The Funeral

April 16, 2017

 

i watch as they lower her into the pit they dug for her. her casket is the colour of the night sky. their faces are grim and so is the air. as they lower her, i feel lighter.

 

when she lived, i was dying.

 

she sucked on my soul and and laughed when i groaned. she picked up the cigarette and let it char my insides. she sliced my skin and squealed with the glee as the blood appeared. she told me things that weren't true, shut me in a room as i screamed at her to let me out. she did this all and more without a care, propping her legs on my table and shrugging her small shoulders, as she ashed on to the floor. she was callous, with me, with my heart.

 

when she was little, i tried to subdue her. but she would come up, unscathed, and push my head under the same water i tried to drown her in. "did you think you could outsmart me?" she would ask. and she was right, because what was i thinking?

 

i let her in. i was a fool. i told her my deepest fears and darkest nightmares. when love tried to take her place, i let her deafening roar out, and wipe away any trace of that love i needed. i fed off her like she fed off me. i was attached to her.

 

and then one day, i was done. one morning i woke up and opened the windows and let the sunlight in. picked up the mess on my floor, and she sat on my bed, her legs crossed, head cocked to the side as she watched with her curious eyes. she got up to stop me, and at first i let her.

 

i repeated the things i did on the second day, and she was angry. but i was firmer. i was adamant because so was she. her wildfire came from the same place that mine did. we were two born off the same flame.

 

and every morning, she was weaker. she was weaker and thinner and her resilience was wearing. on some days, so was mine. on those days she would let out a laugh and mock me, but i shut her out.

 

one morning i awoke and she was next to me. her breathing was heavy and her eyes were pleading. that day, it was my turn to mock.

and then the next day, she was gone.

 

i toy with the hem of my black dress as the dirt hits her casket. i'm the only one here. after all, i was her only friend.

my eyes flicker, as if on their own, to the side.

 

i see her.

 

she's standing in the same black dress that i picked out for her funeral, and a hat on her head. One arm crossed, the other takes a slow drag from the cigarette between her thin fingers. her red lipstick forms a rim around the filter. she looks weak, and i can almost see through the translucency of her. her eyes flicker to me, and then to the hole her casket lies in, and then back to me. back and forth she goes, and she smiles slightly.

 

"you are dead, you are gone." i tell her.

 

"is that what you think?"

 

and that is not a question. to me, that's a promise.

 

Edited By - Diya Mathew

 

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