Dead

The last time I saw her

Should’ve been the last time anyone ever saw her

She’d been resplendent that day;

Shiny black hair and little black shoes,

Flowy white dress,  

As still as her chest,

Makeup smeared, hands folded.

Eyes closed, mouth curved.

Don’t mind me for saying this;

But much prettier than she had ever been in life.

The last time I saw her,

She was being lowered into the ground,

In a cherry-wood coffin.

Supposedly, never to be seen again.

So explain to me now,

Why she’s very much alive

And sitting-

Right there-

On my living room couch?