my invisible stalker looks like my dead friend
BY juheon rhee
it has been too long since i lit a candle,
blown the living fire out held in my hands,
held the heat red and spiteful,
and watched the smoke dissipate into a thin line.
by the urn that kept your remains.
they called your body slender and your face milk-white
can the dead hear us now are our euphemisms
lies making you smile-
is your only goal still to be thin and white?
oh, how we are all poets,
we mask your gruesomely skeletal body.
face concave on your cheekbones,
your face was a porcelain powder,
kept together by the poisons you inject in your veins.
you were hideous but a colorless beast had entered your body,
that ate your lungs like how mold ate bread.
you were beautiful but they could not call you pretty.
we are still all poets,
we called you beautiful.
so why are you here next to me?
why do you still hold my hand in scary movies,
why did you forget you are dead?